


A Thimbleful of Sunset

by Eristastic



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Difference, Coming of Age, F/F, Genderbending, One-Sided Relationship, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eristastic/pseuds/Eristastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't really have much of a say in the matter either way: one way or another, the eternal girl would return to the flow of time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[I’d be grateful if you could consider this a story using the world and character roles of the original, if not the characters themselves. Even if they share names, their personalities are too different to compare, I think.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is too much of a fanfiction to be considered original but also too different from the original to be a true fanfiction so I don't really know what to call it. The characters especially just take on the roles of the originals.
> 
> Just as a warning, the romance is very low in this one, even if I did mark the pairing. It's more an exploration of the original's rules and themes, I guess?

There were probably worse ways to be woken up than by an armful of insects dumped on you, but it's easy to lose sight of that when you're the one being assaulted by centipedes in your ear at 7 in the morning. Peter would have been a little more fresh-faced about the whole ordeal if her friends hadn’t then laughed as she dealt with her impromptu and highly unappreciated bed-mates, but as it was, her good mood snapped in a record two minutes twelve seconds after waking.

-

“I’m just saying, we have these things called ‘limits’ and I think you all need a crash course in when and where they’re applied!” She crossed her arms, huffing, and glared down at the collection of girls in front of her, all sporting an impressive variety of fake ‘we’ll never do it again’ faces and some very real bruises blooming from headlocks received a few minutes prior. They were all a fair few years younger than her, but she’d always seen this age difference as a delightful opportunity rather than a warning to hold herself back.

“Ugh, you’re _so_ cranky today, y’know…” Cee-Cee moaned. “You didn’t even get any up your shorts – I’m not seeing a problem here.” The others nodded in hesitant agreement.

Peter sighed, running her hands through her hair and grabbing a length of string from the table they were all sitting at. “Just keep your shenanigans until after breakfast at least, would you?”

This was met with a flurry of fervent nods and she grinned, tying her ponytail so the tips of it just brushed her shoulders, and brushed down her shirt to get rid of the few ants that had fallen down from her hair. “In that case, what do you lot want to do today?”

The tension relieved, the girls flew into a cacophony of options – from fishing to cave diving to wild boar baiting (“Bry, the last time we did that Nora couldn’t sit down for _weeks_ , and that was with Tink’s magic!”) – but the more Peter heard, the less enthusiastic she felt. She probably shouldn’t have blown up at them over something as minor as the bugs (it was surprisingly depressing to her that that now counted as minor), but she’d felt something weighing on her mind again. She hated when that happened. It was easier not to think altogether, just let yourself have fun. That was the whole point of Neverland, after all.

“I hear the pirates are coming back for the summer, too!” Peter’s head snapped up at that, and she started paying attention properly as the girls whooped in excitement.

“That’s so great! It’s been ages since we had a good raid!”

“I bet that’s why the crocodiles have been so restless lately! They usually sleep for a lot longer than this, but they’ve been showing signs of life for months now! I bet they can just smell those adults coming miles off,” Hetty smiled affectionately at the thought of her favourite and most homicidal pets.

“We can go raid them, right Peter? We can go, right?” Nine gleeful and decidedly grubby faces beamed up to the head of the table and Peter grinned back, giving them the thumbs up.

“Sure we can! Better meet with Tink first, though, so let’s head out!” The girls practically tumbled out of their chairs and through the door in the excitement of getting their hands on fresh amusement, leaving Peter in the hut alone. The smile dropped from her face and she leaned her head back, sighing. Things really weren’t right. It wasn’t as if anything had changed – the gang was always predictably mischievous and vaguely enraging – but she still felt all shaken up, mind clouded over with a confusing cocktail of dread and fatigue. But the girls couldn’t know that. The girls barely understood what being sad was: she couldn’t hope to explain this to them. And as for Tink…Peter shook her head in horror and leapt to her feet. No, it would be fine. These fluctuating moods had only descended on her just after the pirates had left, so she was sure that pestering them again would cheer her up. She hurriedly straightened her shirt and ran out of the door.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise to see everyone in a group, fawning over the very person Peter least wanted to see at that point (maybe it was just in comparison to the rest of the girls who lacked even the most basic perceptive skills, but Tink always knew when something was up). The fairy looked over, briefly distracted from her admirers, and the angelic expression she lavished on the younger girls twisted into a dangerously smug grin. She glided over to recline on Peter’s outstretched hands (it had always been made very clear to all that Tink was _not_ in the habit of hovering if she could help it) and stretched out leisurely.

“My~ Just how long were you spending on your hair, Peter? You should really just admit it’s a hopeless cause by now, you know…with that much grime in it, you can barely tell where your skin stops and it begins.” She tutted far more patronisingly than should have been possible for someone the size of a fist – if Peter was being generous – and shook out her own set of perfectly maintained black braids. Peter rewarded her with a gentle flick to the forehead and she yelped.

“Rude. We don’t all have our personal troupe of admirers to keep us from getting dirty,” Peter smiled somewhat affectionately, careful not to take it too far.

“Well we don’t all look like goddesses incarnate either, so. You just don’t appreciate how much support it takes to be this pretty.” Tink pouted and her golden aura began to flare worryingly.

“Right, right. And you do look stunning today, Tink,” Peter said hastily. “Why, you’re practically glowing!” Tink continued to look put out for a second but eventually gave up the struggle of staying angry, bursting into a peal of glittering laughter. Fairies never could keep more than one emotion for very long.

“You idiot – of course I look good!” She fluttered down onto Peter’s shoulder and pointed ahead imperiously. “Now, what are we doing today? If it doesn’t sound absolutely enthralling I’ll punish you all!” To Peter’s relief, her gang immediately burst in with the exciting news, glad that their leaders had stopped their odd dance of power and control. She relaxed even further when Tink squealed at the news and leapt up and down happily.

“But that’s just wonderful! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for them to get here so I could get back at Hook for insulting me so dreadfully?”

“Not to be the voice of reason or anything, but I hardly think ‘hitting you with the side of a blade because she had no idea you were even there’ constitutes an insult most foul,” Peter put in mildly as they began walking to their usual take-off clearing. Tink whacked her in the ear, pouted some more, and graciously accepted the gang’s hurried consolations and words in her defence.

“You’d better watch it, Peter, or one of these days we’re just going to leave you behind with no dust,” she said, flying out into the middle of the clearing and bringing out a pouch of the stuff.

“Now wouldn’t that just be a tragedy…” Peter sighed.

All the other girls got prepped first and swarmed into the sky with cries of glee, like a set of very noisy parrots against the cloudless blue sky. Tink threw a handful of dust over Peter too in a manner not unlike someone throwing food to a particularly mangy alley-cat. She waited expectantly, in perfect posture, for Peter to get going.

Neither said it, and goodness knows the others were oblivious to anything but their own entertainment, but Peter had been having trouble taking off for weeks. There was always far too much stop-start for her to pass it off as a lack of concentration. It wasn’t even as if flying needed concentration – in theory, all you needed were happy thoughts.

“We may have all day, and every day after that, but you’re wasting a rather large chunk of it, Peter. Get moving.”

“I get it! It’s not easy with you staring at me like that, you know!” The cloud over Peter’s mind grew heavier and she silently willed it away. Just for a minute…just for a minute for her to get off the ground, then Tink would stop breathing down her back about it. To her intense relief, it only took about five seconds before she felt the mossy undergrowth of the forest slide away from her bare feet, replaced by a strangely secure feeling of open air. Tink nodded absently and shot off to the rest of the group, leaving Peter to finally release the breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. She gritted her teeth and followed the others, trying to concentrate on the vibrant splodges of green whooshing by steadily further beneath her feet. Nothing good ever came of thinking too hard while you were flying. She’d learnt that the hard way a few weeks before, and had the bruises and scrapes to prove it.

Not thinking became worlds easier as she soared higher into the picture-book-perfect sky, watching as the whole of the island came into view. It wasn’t all her gang’s territory, to be fair, and there were places even the fearless Peter Pan wouldn’t go near (nobody could get her to share what had happened in the bat caves all those years before, not that Tink hadn’t tried her best), but she could still physically feel her heart grow lighter at the thought that this was her land. An unstoppable smile worked itself onto her lips. It had been given to her, and she loved it with all her spirit. Her gang’s forest; the fairy groves; the tribe’s plains; the sheer cliffs and the rocky beaches (even if the pirates had dominion over the one sand beach on the island); the tidal pools and the fishing shallows: there was simply no comparison between this and the wretched, lie-filled world she’d left behind. But now she was the one lying, wasn’t she?

She began to lose height until she rejected the thought angrily, hurrying to catch up with the others. No, she wasn’t lying. She just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. It wasn’t _lying_ to conceal how she felt: it was strategic diplomacy. It wasn’t even as if there was anyone around who would understand...No! She mentally slapped herself, grimacing. No bad thoughts! She was going to lead the others on a raid that would be talked about for weeks (or at least until the next mildly interesting thing caught the younger girls’ attention). She was going to swoop in and fly off with Hook’s greatest treasure, and she might even be rewarded with a nice ‘I’ll get you for this, Pan!’ spat at her to top the deal off. It was going to be _perfect_. Everything was going to be _perfect_.

They regrouped on the rather worryingly named Cliffs of Untimely Demise, all buzzing with excitement. Wild boar-baiting and making fun of the unlucky girl who inevitably got injured could only satisfy a group of energetic ten year-olds so long, after all, as Peter had found out not three weeks into the winter season. She ushered them into a circle, Tink taking the place of honour on her shoulder, and began to lay out instructions.

“Alright – they’ve clearly just tied up their ship thinking they’ll get a day of rest, so now’s the perfect time! Bry, Ami, Cee-Cee and Lydia, I want you to take care of the lower cabins. Get in real good and swipe the loot you can after we’ve launched the main attack. Phan, Milo and Hetty, you’re to take the sentry and the uppermost deck, before joining me, Nora and Yaya on the main deck. Usual rules: anything goes, but Hook’s mine. We clear?” The girls all nodded and saluted, and Tink gave them all an extra dosage of fairy dust just in case (Peter thought that was a bit superfluous because they looked as if they had enough happy thoughts to take them to the moon, but Tink’s maternal instincts did seem to be solely focussed on her rag-tag group of followers). Peter spared another look down at the pirate ship peacefully resting in the liquid malachite water before nodding emphatically. The girls tore down, plunging off the cliff fearlessly with a chorus of sadistic laughter, followed closely by their leader. She was the least reckless flyer – as might be expected – and Tink stayed head to head with her as they shot down to the unsuspecting ship. They could already hear adult voices crying out in anger as the girls began to wreak havoc, predictably completely out of their assigned roles, but Peter stayed in the air, waiting.

Finally, the person she’d been waiting for stepped out of the doors to the deck, almost leisurely. Hook lazily slung on her cherry-red jacket (not an easy feat with that giant brass hook of hers but she managed to make it look like child’s play) and adjusted her hat with an arrogant flourish. Peter noticed with no small amount of approval that the captain had added purple to her usually very red and gold taste in clothing, although the style was just as intricate and effortlessly worn as usual. With a short nod to Tink, they flew on down and landed in front of Hook just as she was beginning to look around for them.

The woman smiled and threw back her silky black ponytail, though her exaggerated side fringe still managed to fall over her left eye in just the right way. Peter had always wondered if she practiced that in the mirror.

“Couldn’t even give us a day to recover from coming back? How impatient…you really are childish, Pan,” she smirked, red lips curling in a catlike grin, and reached down with her one good hand to unsheathe the sword at her hips. Tink laughed in a mocking tone (although, really, she very rarely laughed good-naturedly): those were usual lines from a usual script and Peter’s response was clearly written out for her to shout back scathingly, she only had to let the words out. But just as she planned the comment in her head, the cloud over her mind bloomed suddenly, shooting through her body, tearing through her shoulders and limbs to bind them. Her throat clogging up, all she could feel was dread. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This…this wasn’t…

The silence had drawn on for too long. Only Tink and Hook were looking at her, what with the commotion all around them, but it was all too much and she could feel her eyes aching with the unfamiliar sting of tears. Her body felt so heavy she was sure the rocking wooden planks under her feet would give way any second. Considering her position, that might be preferable: Tink was narrowing her eyes and Peter could already feel herself being dragged in by their deep, deep black, as unfeeling as a stormy sea the second before it drowned you. As if it would make matters better, Peter’s eyes flicked to Hook who’d now lowered her sword and was watching, curious. If she didn’t know better, Peter would have sworn there was worry in that face she’d learnt to hate. That was too much.

Gripping her arms in support for all the good it did her (none, and Peter made a mental note to stop doing such uncool things in front of the only two people who intimidated her), she straightened and threw her trembling chin up, desperately trying to maintain a strong pose. Her hesitation had been far too long to hope to brush it off by replying to Hook’s opener, and she scrambled to come up with anything she could say that would earn her time alone as soon as possible.

“Hah…” she cringed internally at how weak her voice sounded and redoubled her efforts. “This place stinks of pirate – I can’t stand it. Tink, gather the others. We’re leaving for today.” Tink raised a sculpted eyebrow but said nothing, and shot off to rally the girls after throwing a handful of dust over Peter (about twice the usual dose, and Peter almost thanked her out loud). Hook looked about to say something but Peter was having none of it, and, sparing one final glance at her enemy with a brief nod, she summoned what little strength she had left in her legs and leapt off the side of the ship, praying that she wouldn’t just fall into the sea and cement this day as the Absolute Worst Thing to Ever Happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Her faith in the world grew just a bit stronger as the familiar sensation of rushing wind lifted her up into the air, if a little less steadily than usual, and she rushed away, willing the air to clear her mind. In less than half a minute she’d gained enough height for the ship to look like a toy floating far beneath her, and she relaxed a little, waiting for the others to catch up. She shivered, and though it was hardly warm that high up, especially in a thin shirt and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, she doubted it was because of the cold.

Tink reached her first, as she’d known she would. The fairy looked furious, her normally dark brown cheeks practically glowing red in anger and her eyes shooting daggers. “ _What_ ,” she hissed in an uncharacteristically low voice, “is the meaning of this?” The other girls caught up one by one, hovering in the air. Peter felt her breath grow short as she noticed their accusatory glares, and had to struggle to concentrate enough to even stay level with them. Her mind raced; now would be the perfect chance to tell them, to get this off her chest and explain that yes, she’d been having problems and yes, she’d been a less than perfect leader, but there was a reason! There really was and she couldn’t understand it either, but if they could just bear with her as she worked it out, everything would go back to normal! And Tink had known many more girls before her time, hadn’t she? She’d have heard of this before. So she could finally confess and stop hiding it and feeling like one of those disgusting, lying adults, and - !

“I’ve got the absolute worst stomach ache,” she choked out, arms wrapping around her torso. “I…I think it was something I ate last night but I feel _awful_ : I don’t even want to move…” Hesitantly, already mentally berating herself for lying, she glanced up at the others to see how they were taking it. For the third time that day, a wave of relief washed through her body as she saw her gang nodding sympathetically, and even Tink had retracted her death glare.

“Oh, honestly Peter – just tell us that next time! No wonder you were having such trouble taking off, if you’ve got that to worry about,” Tink scolded her, but it might have been an angel offering her salvation compared to what she’d anticipated before.

“Ah…yeah, sorry about that…” she laughed weakly, rubbing the back of her head. “So, do you mind if I go off somewhere to be alone for a bit while you go have fun on a different adventure? I promise we’ll go and raid the pirates a different time, so…Tink, you’re temporary leader, okay?”

The fairy smirked. “Better be careful I don’t make that permanent!” She twirled round to the younger girls with her hands on her hips and adopted the tone of a colonel sending troops into battle. “You hear that? You report to me now, and I say we’re going for races out on the plains. Now follow me!” With a chorus of cheers and a few encouraging smiles tossed Peter’s way, they flew off in unison, leaving her alone.

Gritting her teeth, she dropped (in a controlled way, perhaps, but there was definitely a certain amount of dropping going on) into the forest on the cliff-side of the island, hoping to find one of the few places too open for the fairies to have claimed it as their own. The last thing she needed was some snitch of a glorified firefly running to out her to their goddess Tinkerbell (Peter would never understand how Tink had managed to basically enslave the whole island into worshipping her). Luckily, when she did tumble through the upper layer of foliage to land rather nastily on her shins, the place had none of the tell-tale signs of fairy domestic life. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh and stretched out on her back, trying to ignore the bruises and cuts she could already feel blossoming on her legs. If anything, they felt satisfying; they gave her something physical to grasp onto.

The cloud hadn’t left her. At the rate it was going, it felt like it never would. Everything…every one of her thoughts felt laced with poison, or so sharp it cut into her mind. They plummeted straight through her head, down, down into her stomach to settle in a growing pit of hopelessness. Her cheeks were rock, firmly held in place to not let out even the slightest quiver of oncoming tears, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. Not why she was feeling this way, not when this had suddenly gotten so much worse, not what might have caused it…she could only see the gentle beams of dust in front of her, seemingly levitated by the sun filtering down through the gaps in the trees. She could only feel an engulfing darkness grasping at everything inside her mind. So she wouldn’t think.

Time had never been that important to her: that was the business of grown-ups who always had things to be doing and places they’d rather be, but she felt even less attuned to it than normal here, in a grove she’d never seen before with nothing to do but listen to the soft sweep of wind through leaves and the rustle of animals moving here and there. She had no idea how long she stayed there for. Occasionally she turned over, relieving an aching muscle and trying to ignore the stickiness of drying blood caked on her legs, but as it became increasingly easy to just _not think_ , she found herself drifting to sleep.

She was roused back awake by a sudden lack of the sunlight’s warmth on her face. Exhaling softly, she rubbed at her eyes and looked up, only to have her breath catch unpleasantly. Hook watched her, eyebrows raised, from not two metres away. Peter started to rush to her feet, but she hadn’t even worked herself into a crouch before the memories of what had happened came crashing down on her and she fell back down, groaning.

“Just…just say what you want and get it over with, Hook.” She stared hollowly above her, refusing to look at the woman standing at her feet.

“The weather’s exceptionally nice today, isn’t it? Almost as if it were welcoming us back,” Peter heard the rustling of clothes, and when she peeked up she saw Hook as sitting against a tree, spinning her hat absent-mindedly on her right hook and watching the collection of chains and charms jingle.

“In fact, it was so nice,” she went on, moving her gaze to catch Peter’s before the girl’s eyes flicked away, “that even though you’d put so much distance between yourselves and us, it was still easy to see you. Especially when you suddenly dropped like a rock down here.”

“I didn’t _drop_ …” Peter muttered, pushing herself into a sitting position and shuffling over to rest against a tree as well. When she’d settled herself, there were only millimetres between their outstretched feet, and she pulled her legs back sharply up against her chest. “So what, did you come here to see me dead or finish off the job or something?”

“Would you like me to say I did?” Peter’s eyes darted up and were immediately caught by a stare as ethereally blue as ink dropped into water. The idea that her enemy was worried about her no longer seemed so laughable, as the woman’s multi-studded eyebrows were furrowed with unmistakeable softness. Frankly, it sent shivers down Peter’s spine.

She laughed stiffly and looked away. “What’s that even supposed to mean…”

“I’m serious, Pan. Do you want me to pretend I came here to kill you? Will that be easier for you?”

“Why ‘pretend’? Don’t you want to kill me?”

Hook’s gaze lost some of its intensity. “You’re young still. You’ve never truly thought about whether we’re trying to kill each other or not, have you? No, I don’t want to kill you. I never have. And you…this is just as much a game to you as it is to me. You’re not set on killing me either.”

“You don’t know that. This could all be an elaborate trap.” Peter smiled drily, glancing up just in time to see Hook leap over and wrap her hand around Peter’s neck, all in one smooth movement. Peter’s hands flew to her throat, but she was pinned to the tree behind her and could feel calloused fingers begin to put pressure precisely on her airway. Changing tactics, she lifted a hand to lay into the pirate’s face, but stiffened up as she felt the sting of the brass hook scratching down her cheekbone, drawing blood. She tried to gauge her enemy’s intentions, but at such a close distance that blue eye staring her down seemed as empty as Tink’s.

She dropped her hand to her side, and, as her lungs started to burn for air and her pulse thudded through her head, choked out “Liar…you’re just like the rest.”

Hook removed her arms abruptly, and Peter gasped for air, shuddering with the leftover adrenaline still coursing through her.

“Don’t take death so lightly. That’s why I said you’re still too young to understand: you think it would just be the greatest thing to kill me and win, but have you ever given any thought to what death actually is? I don’t want to kill you – I meant that, honestly – but I think you need to work out whether you actually want to be the one to end my life with these spotless little hands of yours.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Peter growled, massaging her sore throat. “Of course I know I don’t want to kill you: I’m not like the girls who still think death doesn’t exist and murder is a fun distraction from the monotony of living. And what’s wrong with being young? Is it because I’m too naïve? Because I don’t understand anything? But where’s the harm in that? This world is created for me to just have fun in, so where’s the point if I can’t?! What’s wrong with me living just to have fun?!” Still panting somewhat, she folded her arms over her knees and looked away, definitely not pouting. Pouting was something Tink did, and Peter knew it would just look stupid on her. So she was absolutely not pouting.

Relaxing a little and sitting down properly, Hook cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t look as if you were having all that much fun earlier. Frankly, you don’t look particularly enthused at the moment either.”

“I told you – it’s been a while, so I’m not used to pirate stink yet.”

“That would actually be mildly insulting if it weren’t such a blatant lie.”

“Why would I lie? There’s nothing to lie about.”

“I’d pick your argument apart, but I feel like that would be such a waste of time that you could be making better use of by telling me what’s wrong.”

Peter bristled and shot a glare at the older woman. “Tell _you_? Why on earth would I tell you?! We may not want to kill each other but let me remind you that we’re still enemies! There is no reason why I should ever tell you _anything_!”

The grove grew unnervingly silent after her outburst as Hook just watched her, clearly unsure of how far she would be allowed to go. The sudden lapse in conversation was enough for the lingering dread still hanging over Peter’s mind to grasp her once again, and she bit her lip in an effort to keep control. It was only when Hook’s left arm gently fell across her shoulders and tightened in a non-committal sort of hug that she realised she was shaking again.

“I’m not saying you have to talk about it,” Hook said pleasantly, as if she were discussing the weather like before, “just that it feels as if you need to. What with your constant adventures, I doubt you have enough time to try and understand your problems, and it’s not like that heartless fairy would ever help, so maybe talking to someone else is the best way. Besides, I’ve often found that talking to the least obvious person helps the most.” To Peter’s great relief, she’d turned that piercing gaze away and seemed to be finding great interest in some patch of grass a few metres in front of her.

Peter gritted her teeth.

“I want to understand.”

The woods didn’t suddenly explode in accusations of her heinous betrayal by letting the words leave her mouth. Nor did Hook mock her and laugh at how easy it had been to get her to let her guard down. In fact, much to her surprise, the words came out far more readily than they ever seemed to in front of Tink or the gang. She took it as a sign of encouragement. “I’m not having fun anymore and I want to understand why.”

Hook hummed a response, still not looking over.

“I…” Peter ran her fingers over the clammy black shadows of dried blood snaking down her shins. “Lately, I’ve been feeling bad. All the time. And it’s for no reason. Everything feels pointless because I’m supposed to only have fun – and I only want to have fun – but I suddenly can’t, and because I can’t there’s no point in even being here, but…this is the world I wished for. And then everything feels heavy, like…like even smiling is just so _tiring_. Because all of a sudden I’m wondering how long this will go on for, and if I even want anything to do with a future that bleak.”

The arm around her shoulders tightened a little, and she felt no hate towards it. It was easier when she didn’t look across and see that this warmth was being given to her by someone she was supposed to hate.

“And I tried to talk about it to Tink, weeks ago, but she didn’t understand. She thought I was just in a bad mood and laughed at me. She’s noticed, though – she’s the only one who’s noticed that I’m taking longer and longer to leave the ground when flying. I’ve been having a lot of trouble landing too, that’s why my legs are a mess,” she gestured to the offending limbs, forcing a wry smile.  “But she doesn’t know what to do with me, I think. She just keeps playing with the others and hoping that I’ll grow out of it. Or maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s just waiting until I’m no use anymore, and then she’ll give up on me. It’s not like the others care at all: they don’t notice anything. None of the important things.” Her own words caught her off guard and she glanced to her side, seeking some sort of acknowledgement.

“Is that what this is?” she asked. “Is this important? Or…or can I just forget about it and it’ll go away?”

“That’s really up to you to decide. Do you think it’ll go away?”

“…no. No, I don’t think it will. It’s been a month or two, and even though it was up and down at the start, it’s been getting deeper.”

Peter reached up to touch the hand at her shoulder tentatively. Hook squeezed her hand in return and they sat in silence. The gentle rustles and shakes around them had come back, maturing in the sort of sound that revealed more and more layers the longer you listened.

“It’s normal, you know.”

Peter’s brow crumpled in confusion. “Normal? But no one else is...”

“Your friends are either years younger than you or a fairy who lacks any measure of empathy: of course nobody else around you seems to have feelings more complicated than the conflict over whether to go tree climbing or shell collecting, whatever it is you do.” Their eyes connected in another one of those long gazes Peter was beginning to realise held a lot more meaning than she’d thought. “But what you’re feeling is normal. Humans are supposed to have confusing emotions.” She cracked a smile. “You’d only have to spend a day with my girls to realise that. Whether your feelings are more confusing than most remains to be seen, but don’t go thinking you’re irreparably different. How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirteen. You?”

“Twenty-one. I’m surprised you keep track.”

“Well, I did leave on my sixth birthday so it’s easy to remember. And anyway, we’ve got a long history of throwing wild birthday parties for each other. That’s why Tink claims to have been born on multiple days of the year, chosen whenever she feels we’ve forgotten her last one.” She was rewarded with a snort from beside her, and found herself grinning too. It made her cheeks ache pleasantly.

“Well, that brat certainly hasn’t changed. Be that as it may, just know that it’s even more usual for children your age to stop behaving in the way you always have. Really, it’s something a lot of people go through.”

“Ah…” Peter sighed, and realised she was genuinely feeling better. Even her cloud wasn’t as heavy as it had been. It almost felt like it wasn’t there.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Why, though? We’re enemies after all.”

Hook smirked. “I’ve never once considered us enemies. And besides,” she gave Peter a smile soft enough to send the girl’s stomach into knots, “I do actually care about you and how you’re feeling. I didn’t think about it much until now either, but…when you broke down earlier, it sort of hit me that I was more worried for you than interested in throwing you off the ship.” She laughed. “Maybe that’s just me growing soft with fatigue from the long journey, though.”

Peter nodded, somehow understanding that both of them knew it was nothing to do with that.

“Regardless…” Hook continued. “If you do need to talk, I’d prefer you talked to me than run the risk of letting that heartless fairy into your mind.”

Peter nodded absently.  “I guess talking to you wasn’t the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“That’s all we can hope for. Now…I don’t know what you told your gang, but do you think you can face them now?”

Peter looked over and studied the woman’s face. There really wasn’t the slightest sign that she was being anything other than sincere, but Peter was sure that if she pondered that too closely it would only scare her. She nodded and let herself be pulled to her feet, and then into a brief hug. The captain ran her hook over the small scratch it had made in Peter’s cheek, and she cringed apologetically. “I didn’t mean for it to be that deep, I’m sorry. It’s sometimes difficult to gauge pressure with this thing…”

Peter shook her head, smiling, and gave a small wave as Hook left. She reached up to touch where the hook had traced. She’d never have believed that hard metal could feel so gentle.


	3. Chapter 3

Not having the luxury of flight at her disposal, it was the end of the afternoon by the time Peter made it back to the cabin. With some of the weight lifted off her shoulders, it had been perfectly wonderful walking back and she’d relished the sensation of actually being free to think of things other than the confusion that threatened to drown her. Because it was normal, Hook had said. And if it was normal, it could be worked through. And if it was normal, Peter was just the first going through it, and she’d be able to be there for her girls when they eventually did too. So she’d have to try hard and do her best to be a strong role model!

With a purpose uncovered from the mounds of dread and hazardous thoughts, the walk seemed to fly by, and she saw the beauty in everything that passed her. The premature buds opening cautiously on every other bush; the fat huddles of moss glistening with cobwebs; the tiny birds pecking at the forest floor for worms, and even the occasional lonely chirps of an early cicada enthralled her. She fair rushed through the cabin door, beaming with a hand held high in greeting, and was tackled to the floor by a mass of nine year olds.

“Peter, guess what, guess what! We must have run over fifty races and I won the most!” Lydia shouted right next to Peter’s ear.

“You filthy liar,” Phan sniffed.

“Yeah, she didn’t even come second.”

“You’re just sore because I tripped you up twice.”

“Don’t say that so proudly!”

“You’re right: you trip over your own feet enough, it’s hardly worth it to- ow!”

“Alright, alright!” Peter somehow managed to extract her hands and clapped them to get some degree of silence. “I take it you all had a good day? So could you get off?”

Hetty clapped her hands to her mouth as she remembered the excuse Peter had made earlier, and the others followed suit, apologising sloppily and getting up. Peter grinned and jumped to her feet. “So where’s Tink, anyway?”

“I’ve been here the whole time you know…” the fairy drawled from where she was sitting on the table in the centre of the main room. Putting down the grape she’d been eating, she flew lazily to land on Peter’s hands that were already waiting for her. “You could have at least made sure I was okay before lounging with your beloved servitors.”

Peter smiled at the (probably) intentional hypocrisy and stroked Tink’s braids with a finger. “Thanks for doing such a good job of keeping them entertained. I’m all better now, so I promise we’ll do something extra fun soon.”

“You mean…” the girls looked at each other, excited, before turning back and bellowing in unison “We can go raid the pirates again?!”

“Anything but that!” Peter smiled, ignoring their sighs and Tink’s side-eye. “We’ll think about it some other time, so for tonight let’s just relax, okay?”

Somewhat mollified, the girls agreed, and headed back to the table where a horrifically sketchy game of cards seemed to be laid out, complete with gold coins in piles. Peter decided not to get involved, and instead walked through one of the tunnels leading into the hill behind the cabin, where the bedrooms were built. It was a remarkably sophisticated feat of architecture, considering how it had already been made when Peter had first arrived. She just chalked it up to Tink’s magic actually being a lot stronger when she wasn’t spending her days in decadence.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter got a couple of days’ leeway before she was reminded (in a very put-out fashion) that she had, indeed, promised to do something extra special with the girls and would do well to keep her word. She’d had enough time to order things in her mind, and even though it still seemed surreal that she’d actually had a heart to heart with her mortal enemy, she couldn’t deny that Hook’s words had calmed her down. Well, she could: she gave it a good try, but her abominable cloud had dissipated enough that the evidence was against her.  So she set her mind to working out what exactly she could satisfy her gang with.

By the time the next morning rolled around, some of the more excitable girls were almost jittering with the prospect of Peter’s promise to give them something really special. It was kind of sweet that they managed to work themselves up into that much enthusiasm every single day, Peter thought. In fact, it was catching: everything around her seemed to be doused in light, and she didn’t think that was the sort of thing Tink would waste energy on. Her cloud completely forgotten, it felt as if there was golden energy bursting up inside her, straining her cheeks into a bubbling smile and pushing words out of her mouth as she joined in the conversation while everyone got dressed.

After Tink had summoned them breakfast, they all followed Peter to a cliff she’d noted a while back, where she’d got the idea. Standing by the edge proudly, she motioned to the ten metre drop to the sea below, with one of their usual rock beaches not a minute’s swim away from it.

“We’re going to cannonball,” she said smugly, allowing herself a glow of pride when the girls began shouting in approval. Predictably, the first thing they did was tackle her over the cliff’s edge in one great bundle of screeching child.

-

By midday, they were all lying stretched on rocks, exhausted from the constant climbing to get all-too-short rushes of adrenaline. Peter yawned, throwing an arm over her face to shade her eyes from the glaring sun overhead. It wasn’t an ideal location, being a good ten metres from the others, but her boulder was so well lit she could already feel her clothes drying out on her, and a little risk of sunstroke was well worth not going home in soggy clothes.

Nearer the cliffs, a few of the girls were tossing back comments as they angled for the comfiest section of rock.

“Hetty…” Ami whined piteously. “You _like_ the water, why don’t _you_ just stay on the lower rock?”

“Since when did I like it, idiot? I won this place fair and square in rock-paper-scissors.”

“Bashing me on the head with your rock after I clearly threw paper is not fair. Besides…you’ve been spending all that time with your crocodiles, so you’ve got to be used to it…”

“Yeah,” Bry joined in with Ami’s half-hearted attempts to dislodge Hetty. “You’ve been spending so much time down there, so why don’t you just go back?”

“I’m preparing something real good, so you can all zip it. Now stop! You’re going to push me off!”

“That was always the idea,” Milo kneed her way up to their perch and began pushing as well.

“Guys, seriously…” Hetty clung to the sides of the rock, but with three girls pushing her, even three very lethargic ones, she didn’t stand much chance. Peter only realised this when she heard a sudden scream and a crunch that filled her throat with bile.

Without stopping to think, she leaped from her own rock and jumped down to where the other girls were already beginning to circle, worry written on all their faces. Every bubble of energy she’d retained from the morning drained down to her feet, followed closely by her heart, and she could feel the familiar tendrils of dread wrap around her lungs, choking her. She pushed Lydia and Phan aside, and jumped down to the crevice between two large boulders where Hetty had fallen.  To her relief, the girl was conscious: curled up on the shifting, soaked sand of a shallow tidal pool, she grasped at her head, whimpering.

Peter pulled her into her arms, and climbed up the rock beach to where the forest roots began to mix with sand. Tink, fully woken up from the nap she’d been enjoying, flew to them hurriedly and began to pull at Hetty’s hands as Peter lay the girl down on the sand. When Hetty did bring her hands away, they were streaked with blood. Tink hissed and her arms began to glow golden as she got to work, but Peter spun round on her heel and stalked over to the rest of the group.

“What in blazes were you thinking?” she said in a low, low voice, sending shivers down the girls’ spines. The guilty trio looked away and Peter’s muscles began to spasm in anger. She crossed her trembling arms, but couldn’t keep her voice from shouting. “Do you never think at all, then?! Or do you think that because this is Neverland, death doesn’t mean a thing? That drop could have killed her! Do you understand what that means? You could have killed her!”

“How were we to know she’d fall like that?!” Bry cried out, eyes glistening with tears. “You’re the leader – you should have been paying attention!”

“You’re nine years old, Bry: you should know when what you’re doing could be fatal! Start taking responsibility for your actions!”

“B-but Tink’s healing her, so it’s fine, right? She’ll be fine, right?” The girl looked up hopefully, but her face froze when Peter’s eyes met hers.

“Just because Tink can save you doesn’t mean you can go around trying to kill each other. Do you really not understand what you’ve done?!”

Bry bit her lip and Ami took up the defence, tears already billowing down her cheeks freely as she tried to wipe them away with the backs of her hands.

“We were just playing! We didn’t mean it, honest we didn’t! We didn’t think it’d get this serious, Peter!” Her voice broke and she fell to her knees, bawling as some of the other girls tried to comfort her.

Peter snarled, and was about to snap another retort when all the blood pumping through her veins felt as if it had turned to mud. Every one of the girls was looking up at her with fear and confusion. She’d never seen them like that before. Not when they first fought the pirates, not when half the group got lost in a giant cave for two days, not when they faced down a family of full-grown wild boar. It finally hit her that they really didn’t see the problem. They were immortal children who could play for eternity and never had to clean up after themselves. There would always be fairies to do it for them.

Her own words from the day before resounded in her ears for a second: ‘ _I’m not like the girls who still think death doesn’t exist and murder is a fun distraction from the monotony of living’_. She took a step back, dropping her arms to her sides.

She wasn’t like them. She’d known that, but it had never seemed so real before. Somewhere along the line she’d changed, gradually at first but picking up pace like an avalanche. For some reason that truth was pounding through her whole body, each beat sending disgust coursing to her stomach. Disgust at herself, disgust at her behaviour….disgust at them. They were childish. They weren’t little kids anymore but they knew nothing, and refused to learn. They only cared about having fun, and they wouldn’t be able to be there for her when she needed it. They were so, so childish, and she was growing up.

Was that what it was?

Her mood swings, her annoyance, her inability to understand her friends: was that her growing up?

She’d rejected it completely, so why was it ruining her life now?

It was only when Tink moved in to hover in front of her, scowling up a storm, that she realised she hadn’t said a word for minutes.

“Hetty’s going to be fine. I’ve put her to sleep for now, and the cut is already scarring over. Calm down.” Tink spoke in carefully clipped sentences, and it took Peter a second to notice that she was in an almost protective stance in front of the other girls.

“I…I see. That’s good to hear, thank you,” she rasped, suddenly unsure of how to speak. Her body felt too stiff, too numb, as if she was no longer a part of it, but she was, she was, she _was_. This was her now. It wasn’t that some waves of mood swings were throwing her out of sync, nor was there any hope she’d break free of it. The rift between her and her girls was practically tangible as it screeched through her head.  Joining it, her cloud of dread began to beat up a hateful rhythm inside her mind, pulsing painful thoughts through her. She didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t want to think about it, she -!

“You’re off, Peter.” Tink’s eyes were endless and Peter could almost believe she’d prefer to be sucked into them than stay standing in front of so many judgemental looks. Almost.

“Of course I am…” she smiled weakly. “I’m really bad with stress, you know that…”

“You’re lying. Don’t pretend it’s that. You’ve been off for days. I tried to believe your lie yesterday too, but this is too much. If you were normal, you would never have shouted at them like this.” Some of the girls were nodding tentatively, fear still etched all over their faces.

“Well, maybe if they’d thought for even a second before doing something so stupid, I wouldn’t have shouted at them,” Peter muttered. Tink’s eyes narrowed and she moved closer, barely a hand’s width from Peter’s face.

“You’re their leader. It’s your responsibility to deal with things like this, sympathetically and supportively.”

“But they’re acting so childish about it!”

“Need I remind you that you came here to be a child?” Tink thundered. “You wished for this world, Peter. Now live it. For crying out loud, you haven’t even been able to fly properly lately! And now these…these sudden changes of heart! It’s like you’re a completely different person! You’re not that eternal child I made you!”

“I’d prefer to be different rather than stay stagnant like you forever!” The words surprised her, and before she knew it she was running away as fast as she could from the disappointment on their faces, from the glint of unadulterated fury she’d seen burning in Tink’s eyes.

It was the first time she’d run so carelessly, barely seeing where she was putting each foot, stumbling and tripping over every obstacle in her way. Everything was wrong. She hadn’t understood it before she’d said it, but it had been the truth, and the more she thought about how little she wanted what she’d originally wished for, the tighter her cloud strangled her. It hurt, it hurt more than any thought she’d ever had before.

She didn’t want to stay stagnant. She didn’t want to become an adult either. Years had gone by, but she still remembered what it was like to be looked at as if you were unwanted, to have your questions answered by slammed doors and shouts. She still remembered how many lies she’d drunk down gratefully, only for them to turn to poison in her stomach. No…she couldn’t turn into that. It would be far preferable to die than end up that way. Was that really what was waiting for her? What did it matter that this was ‘normal’ if it was such a horrible future?!

Her foot hit a thick root blocking her path and she fell, tumbling head over heels and landing at an edge of the forest she didn’t recognise. It didn’t matter. The scrapes on her hands, the stains on her clothes, the leaves in her hair: none of them mattered, but she began to cry even so.

It was a wretched sort of crying: the type where every muscle in your face is straining to let the tears out but you fight it still, desperately swallowing and swallowing but unable to dislodge the suffocating lump. Peter heaved her tears, finally giving in and sobbing coarsely, pathetically. It all repulsed her; all these reminders of her maturation, because why couldn’t she forget and have fun like before? Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with things as they were? Why did she have to have this stupid cloud of dread eating away at her? Why…why did Tink have to look at her like that? Why couldn’t she just be coddled like before, comforted and reassured that things would be fine?

Delicate crunching sounds approached her, and through flooding eyes, she looked up slowly to where the white sand of the beach began. A flash of red walked in front of her line of sight. She wiped her eyes in time to focus on Hook as the woman came rushing over to pull her into a hug.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter was still sniffling a little as she rested back against the older woman redoing her hair. The feeling of long fingers combing out leaves was more calming than she would have liked to admit, but she’d been in such a state earlier that she reasoned there was no harm in letting her dignity fall even harder. Outside the open-mouthed cove they sat in, small waves broke softly against the shore in a steady rhythm. 

“I’m surprised you’ve got such fluffy hair, considering how you take care of it,” Hook hummed. “Do you wash it once a month, or every two?”

“That’s just rude,” Peter sniffed, rubbing her nose with the handkerchief she’d been given (“You’ll probably want to keep it”). “I wash it every week – that’s normal, right?”

“Hmm…for those in my crew who actually care about their appearance, then yes. I do it every three days, though.”

“That sounds like a pain.”

“Hygiene tends to feel like that unless you take pride in it,” Hook laughed, deftly tying the hair in her hands into a ponytail, then beginning to braid it. Peter wondered how she was even able to do it essentially one-handed.

“It was a lot more of a chore when I was younger…”

“That’s generally the way.”

Peter could feel the older woman holding back, purposefully keeping her comments amicable and bland. She wondered vaguely if she was worth that sort of trouble.

“What were you doing before, anyway?” she asked, for something to say. “Just walking along the beach alone?”

“I suppose so. This is one of our beaches, after all: I was just taking a stroll.”

“Really? I’m surprised the great captain has so much free time on her hands.” She laughed as Hook poked her in the cheek.

“Keep in mind this season is our one break in the year from our general villainous activities,” she said ruefully.

Peter waited for her to say it.

“What about you? Will you tell me what happened?” _There we go_.

“How much of a choice do I have?” the girl sighed.

“Peter, I’m serious. I won’t force you to say things you don’t want to tell me, you should know that.”

 _It’s all well and good you saying that when we both know I can’t resist telling you in the end_. “I know.”

“I want to help you. It sounds absurd, and given our positions it is, but-”

Peter reached around and laid a hand on Hook’s. She let a smile into her voice, “I know.”

The heart that had been pounding against her back calmed slightly. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering why this unsurpassable legend of a woman was so worried for her.

“I might have lost it a little,” she said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn’t felt her mental state slowly shredded and stuck back together in a patchwork of truths she didn’t want to face. “Something bad happened, and I lost it, and Tink called me out on it. She said I was off. She said I wasn’t myself, that I was changing too much, and I told her I didn’t want to stay the same anymore. You know, I didn’t realise it could be put into such simple terms until I did it for myself. It really is simple, isn’t it? The eternal girl wants to return to the flow of time.

“I ran away, then. I didn’t exactly set out to come here: I didn’t set out to go anywhere, I was just running. It was different, before. What you said did help me: I thought I could face it. But having other people acknowledge that something’s changed makes everything worse. They were looking at me so....and….and because of that, I thought about it more, and I don’t like the idea at all. I don’t want to grow up to be an adult like the ones I knew! I don’t want to be like that, I just -!”

Hook pulled her hand through the curls of Peter’s fringe, bringing her head back gently so their eyes met. “Then just become the adult you want to become: that’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Enough…?” She repeated, eyes as wide open as her heart.

“I don’t know what your past was like, and I know you probably haven’t had many good experiences with adults, but while it’s true that they’re very different compared to children, they still come from children. It’s not some spur-of-the-moment transformation either: as you’ve been feeling, it’s something that takes a while. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’d count as an adult yet and I’m much older than you. I think you’re stressing too much over what you _need_ to become and not thinking enough about what you _can_ become.” She smiled and it sent shocks of warmth through Peter’s body.

“After all,” she went on, waiting for Peter to turn around in her lap before putting a finger to the girl’s forehead, “it’s obvious to anyone with eyes – actually, that’s a bit offensive to at least two members of my crew, scratch that – to anyone who pays attention that you’ve got heaps of potential. I can only wait impatiently to see what you’ll be able to accomplish when you’re older! There’s nothing wrong with changing if it’s into someone you can be proud of.

“And you just wait and see,” her encouraging smile turned mischievous, “it might be confusing getting there, but it’s not something you can stop, and you can have a lot of fun as an adult too.”

Peter stayed stunned for a second before wrinkling her noise and letting out a (maybe a little forced) _pah_ of derision. “What, like with romance? That sounds so boring.”

“It does sound a little mind-numbing in theory, doesn’t it? But no, that’ll come in time if it ever does. That’s not important: haven’t you imagined all the freedom you can have as an adult?”

Peter shook her head.

“Well, I can’t show you the full extent here – you’d have to go back to Earth for that – but at the very least, let me introduce you to all the fun things reserved for pirates on the island.” They got to their feet and, hand clasped by Hook’s, Peter followed the woman out of the cove, spirits buoyed up again by the acceptance she hadn’t realised she’d been craving.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter was sure that she’d have thrown a fit if she’d found out earlier just how much of the island’s beauty the pirates were hiding away in their territory. The fairy woods were one thing, but even on festival nights where each branch seemed lit with more colours than Tink’s wings when the light filtered through them, Peter had never seen anything as entrancing as the mermaid coves at sunset. There had been a lot of contenders: Hook had taken her round to see the creamy stretches of beach so she could feel the feather-light tickle of soft sand covering her toes at each step for the first time (not as wonderful as it sounded once you left the beach and had to deal with sticky sand on your feet, as Peter found out). They’d walked past rock pools far livelier and more vibrant than she’d seen before (one of the perks of not having young girls fishing in them every week) and down to jewel caves hidden deep below cliffs Peter had been walking for years without ever once realising there was a world of glittering crystals below her. But the mermaid coves were the best.

The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sea in rosy fire, and the tide was far enough out that all the pair could see of the mermaids was the occasional flick of a tail here and there, sending sparks of water into the air.

“It’s so lovely…” Peter couldn’t hold herself back from saying.

“Isn’t it, though?” Hook said smugly, leaning back further onto the cool stone of the rock face behind her. “Oh, but you do need to be careful: mermaids are carnivorous. They’re probably the most dangerous creatures on this island; it’s part of the reason we took this section as our territory.”

Peter hummed in a non-committal fashion, still dumbfounded by how a sight she’d almost grown numb to over the years was leaving her transfixed all over again.

“So…” Hook started, pointedly looking in the opposite direction. “Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, today was…it was really nice.” Peter congratulated herself on managing to find possibly the blandest way of summing up how much she’d enjoyed the afternoon.

“So you see,” the woman continued hurriedly, still not making eye contact, “there really isn’t anything to be that afraid of. I think…what I was trying to show you was that you can have fun without your friends – with other people. You don’t have to stay stagnant if you don’t want to. I’d advise against it personally, too. You should just take things as they come and make the best of what you can, although I know that’s a little difficult when you didn’t even realise until recently that you’d have to grow up at all. No matter what position you’re in, there are always going to be good things to find. Sometimes you just have to look a little harder, that’s all.”

Peter bit her lip, and waited three counts of waves slapping against the shore. “Y-yeah…so, for me, I think I can come around to the idea in time, that wasn’t really the problem, but…won’t I just be hated for it? None of my friends understand what’s going on at all, or want to, so is it really a good idea to go with the flow? This is Neverland anyway, so where’s the harm if I resist and stay a child to be with them like I’ve always been?”

Four more waves came in and out.

Logically she should have been getting used to spreading her heart out for all – though it wasn’t _all_ , now was it? – to see, but she could still feel her heart raising a racket in her ears by the time Hook replied.

“I think…that wouldn’t be wrong. It would probably benefit more people, certainly. It might give you more immediate happiness, too. I also can’t say that I’d be a hundred percent certain of what I should do if I had to choose between myself and my crew. I love them, I really do, and without them I just don’t know where I’d be, you know? It’s difficult having them depend on me all the time, but…I like it.” Peter found herself nodding along, the words resonating with her and making her smile without meaning to.

“But I don’t think you’re in a position where you can choose, are you?” Hook continued. “Whatever your friends think, it’s not natural for you to stay stagnant and your body at least is obviously rejecting that. So I think you should do what makes you happy, but also…keep in mind what will make you happier in the long run. Do you really think you can go back? Wouldn’t you have already done it if you could? And for that matter, do you really think your friends are worth it, if they won’t try and help you? Well,” she grinned ruefully, “I mostly mean that for that blasted pixie. The children aren’t really at fault. So even if you are hated for it, if it feels right, I’d say to just go with it. I’ll be here to help you, after all.” It shouldn’t have been possible to break eye contact when there wasn’t any to start with, but Hook managed it somehow.

“Now!” she went on. “All that said, it’s probably time for me to go. My lot will give me an earful if I don’t, I’m sure.” She chuckled, getting to her feet, and finally turned round to meet Peter’s eyes. “I’ll see you again.”

Peter thought that sometime long ago she had heard stories about smiles such as the one she was gifted with just then. Smiles that seemed to radiate tenderness and love, ones that made you feel as if you were the only person who mattered because, for a second at least, to that person you were. Smiles that sent your stomach into knots and your legs into stone, but warmed you through so thoroughly you didn’t mind. She wasn’t a selfish person by nature, she liked to think, but her hand seemed to disagree as it reached out to grab Hook’s cuff as she turned to leave, if only to get another glimpse of that smile.

The older woman stopped when she felt the resistance and turned, an odd mixture of confusion and happiness in her expression, though Peter didn’t have the time to think about that. She was far too busy wondering what on earth was wrong with her hand. Surely hands were supposed to _obey_ the brain, weren’t they? They weren’t supposed to have a mind of their own, so she simply couldn’t reason why hers wouldn’t let go.

It suddenly occurred to her that she might have spent the last half minute just gaping at her body’s newfound autonomy, and she quickly snapped her mouth shut, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“A-ah…um, this is…” she began, unoccupied hand waving erratically, but Hook just smiled again – a smile which did an excellent job at helping Peter forget she still had a brain and could, in theory, have rational thoughts.

“Would you like to try something more exhilarating than flying?” she was asked, and somehow she managed to nod.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn’t more exhilarating than flying, but in her defence Hook couldn’t have known that, and Peter was in no mind to complain either, seeing as she felt she was lifting off the ground just from the sheer pounding of her heart anyway.

Hook had asked her to wait while she went back to the ship to collect a few things (a welcome opportunity Peter took to calm herself down and regain control over her mutinous limbs). Those ‘things’ ended up being a cloth-wrapped parcel and a suspicious-looking box which Peter glared at cautiously until she was distracted by the parcel. It contained some things Hook said she’d swiped from the ship’s cook, although considering how much her crew doted on her, it was probably more a case of her surreptitiously asking and then being given everything she could have wanted (and more) with a fond smile.

After dinner, as the bulbous moon began to wash the beach in light lazily, the older woman brought the box into play. Literally, it turned out, as (with a probably overly dramatic flourish) she opened it up to reveal a sort of music player: a cross between an organ, a music box, and a record player. The whole thing was inlaid with mother of pearl and silver, but despite its grandness it looked quite at home nestled in the sand up-shore, far out of the approaching sea’s reach. Hook turned a crank, pressed a few buttons, and the box whirred into a lilting waltz that echoed around the cliffs.

“Is _this_ what you meant? And here I thought you were lauding your cook’s praises or something.” Peter laughed off her nervousness as her stomach suddenly remembered it had a penchant for turning volatile at the most inopportune moments.

“Well, she _is_ good. But no, I did mean that I wanted to dance with you. Do you know how, by any chance?”

“Tink dances divinely, but she never cared to share her secrets with us mere mortals.”

“Well,” the captain smirked, offering a hand, “I suppose that leaves me all the fun, then.”

It wasn’t so bad, once Peter got the hang of it. She was far from clumsy (clumsy people just didn’t last on the adventures she went on), and once you understood the rhythm, there was very little complexity to a waltz. What she found she liked best was the sense of being in time with another person. Flying was something you did solo: even if you flew with others, it was as a flock and not _together_ , but dancing meant you had to line up your bodies in time with the other. She supposed it was possible to dance without putting your heart into it, but she was still a beginner and probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself connecting with her partner even if she wasn’t. That seemed to be the way things were going a lot of the time, lately.

The music didn’t appear to have an end to it, and Peter was thankful. An end meant some words of acknowledgement of what had happened, and she didn’t think she was ready for that. As she was led gently but firmly, spinning and turning with sand-rubbed feet, she felt her stomach settling a little. It was strange: she’d been thrown between magnificent highs and crushing lows so violently that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in the middle. But everything was calm. The waves moved with soft swishes, the moon and stars pricked the night sky with glitter, Hook smiled at her as if there was no greater joy than dancing with an inexperienced thirteen year old, and Peter felt calm.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, the song changed to a slower tempo and became even softer despite the slight cracking of the sound quality. Hook turned her around in a quick pirouette before changing their steps accordingly so they seemed only to be just barely moving their feet.

“Peter…” the woman started, and Peter glanced up to watch her partner’s face.  She was looking away, navy eye almost glowing black in the darkness, a breeze lifting the hair over her eyepatch as if threads of the night sky had detached themselves to brush over her face. Peter felt heat rise to her cheeks treacherously and made a mental note to remember how pretty the woman looked when she was biting her lip anxiously.

Eventually she finished her train of thought. “About your friends…I mean this in the most sensitive way possible, but don’t you think they’re – or even just the responsibility of leading them is – putting too much pressure on you? Don’t you think it would be easier to…draw the line at some point?”

Peter stayed silent. And she’d been avoiding thinking about the subject so well, too.

“I think…” Hook continued, “there’s a point where you need to realise that friendships aren’t working out anymore. Whether you like them or not, they’re not exactly doing you much good right now.”

“They’re still my friends though. I can’t leave them.” So she told herself every time things got strained. She’d found it an effective mantra.

“I know that,” and Hook’s voice was unfairly warm, cruelly sweet with its faint tone of worry that she’d caused offence, and Peter thought she might do something terrible if only was it was asked of her in that voice. “I know that, but they’re causing you trouble. They’re just not giving you what you need. They don’t know how, after all.”

“But that’s still” she bit her lip. There wasn’t a whole lot she could say against that. “…Even so, I….I…”

Hook waited a few more false starts before speaking. “You could have more than one set of friends, you know: have them give you different things, and provide different company for them in turn. But even if that were the case…I think there’s a time where you need to admit it’s not working and you just need to give up. You shouldn’t stay with people solely because you feel you have to. Friends are supposed to make you happy. Consistently happy, not just happy on the outside with a constant underlying stream of guilt and negative feelings.”

“That’s not…I wished for this, though. I wished for the world they’re giving me. I can’t abandon them all just to run away from what I begged for!”

“Why not? That stupid fairy was even more of an idiot than usual in assuming you’d never change your mind. Fairies can’t understand humans, and we shouldn’t really expect them to, to be fair. She just thought you’d stay the same child forever and created a world suited for that future. She thought you’d always have the same whims, the same morals, the same caprices, the same desire to leave the adult world behind.”

“But was that so wrong? Why should I ever change that desire?! It was the right decision, wasn’t it? That world was tainted, it was awful, what could I do: just put up with it when everything was hateful?” Peter brought them to a halt, staring up entreatingly, but didn’t let her arms fall to her sides. It occurred to her too late that the subject had shifted to something that fired up a blistering, malignant heat in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about it.

“I know, Peter. I understand.”

“How could you possibly understand?!” It was less an accusation and more an appeal. _Prove to me that I can trust you. Prove to me that you understand, and want to, even if nobody else does_. “Everybody always lied to me! ‘I’ll play with you later’, ‘I’ll come back earlier tonight’, ‘I’ll do you proud’, ‘I won’t leave you alone’, ‘I…’” she said hoarsely, gulping back burning tears, “‘I love you’.  They always lied! Of course I’d run away here! Of course I would, what else could I do?!”

“You couldn’t do anything. But you can now.” Hook brushed a tear away from the corner of Peter’s eye and fixed her with a trembling stare. Both their eyes were glistening in the moonlight. “You can understand, can’t you? You’ve grown up a bit now, so, even if it’s just a little, you can understand that adults aren’t all walls and barriers in your way, liars and cheats who only care about themselves. Adults are humans too, and humans make mistakes. Theirs may be a lie-filled world, but that's the only way they can live together: if you tell the truth all the time you'll never get anywhere. If you try and make everything good for everyone, you'll never get anywhere. I’m not an expert, but I think growing up – if it’s about anything – is about realising the battles you need to take and those you need to throw because in a world like that you need to find a balance that will let you live in a way that pleases you. You need to scale down your ideals to just your own life and learn how to face a harsh world.”

The world didn’t stop turning, but it might as well have for all the attention Peter paid to anything other than the woman in front of her. It wasn’t anything particularly ground-breaking, perhaps, and goodness knows she’d never found it easy taking advice from people, but the words seemed to carry lightness with them that she could only long for.

“We’ve established that you can’t live here forever, not in the way you are now. We need more time to see if you can continue living with your friends, what with the way things are. But don’t think that your only options are to be with them or to be cast out as a filthy liar like the adults you knew. There’s a difference between deliberately hurting someone and leaving to save yourself from pain. And Peter, please…don’t throw the old world completely out of the picture. It’s cut-throat, and it’s dark, and it’s cruel, but there are good things too. And there are ways to live there happily, for the most part. And it’s just that if you can’t deny that you’re changing then it seems dishonest to keep living here. At some point – not necessarily soon! – you need to go out and face the world you threw away.” Hook finished, watching her desperately.

It was amazing, Peter thought, how words you’d been dreading and avoiding for weeks could sound so kind when packaged with encouragement and support. She hated, hated, _hated_ realising that there were things she couldn’t do by herself, but what with how light she felt at being shown a point of view she’d never even entertained before, she thought she could live with it. And then Hook smiled _that_ smile again and everything fitted into place, and Peter found herself flinging her arms around her with enough force to send them both to the ground in a happy-sniffling (Hook) and happy-full-out-sobbing (Peter) bundle.

Peter recovered first, leaning on her elbows above Hook, and rubbed her eyes until she realised they were likely getting red enough to blend in with her cheeks. It was probably okay: she doubted it would show up against the darkness of her skin or the low light, anyway. She sighed heavily.

“It’s really easy when you put it like _that_ ,” she said petulantly. “Don’t you think it’s rude of you to make everything clear after I’ve spent weeks agonising over this?”

“I don’t think I said anything especially new or interesting though!” Hook protested, smothering a smile. “Isn’t it nice just knowing that someone else understands?”

“Or wants to,” Peter mirrored her earlier thoughts. And it was true. No sudden moment of clarity had been bestowed upon her, no light descending from the heavens in the form of some woman with an awful lot of white robes that didn’t cover enough (probably) to tell her where to go. That wasn’t really what she’d needed in the first place, she thought. Rather, the warmth bubbling up through her chest was more than enough to replace what she hadn’t realised she’d missed. “How did you know exactly what to say?”

“I went through the same thing,” Hook said, then added quickly, “I mean, everyone goes through this sort of crisis at around your age. It’s practically my duty to guide you.” She slowed down, eyes darting away, “Though I’d do it even if it weren’t.”

Peter noted with glee that it was a lot more noticeable when Hook’s cheeks reddened compared to hers. She moved her weight off her arms and slumped onto the woman’s chest. “I’m tired. Going to sleep.”

“Don’t you _dare_. I’ll tell that fairy of yours about us if you do, Peter, I swear I will.”

“‘About us’?” Peter flashed a grin, feeling even better now she was getting back into her usual role of ‘aggravating little devil’ rather than ‘crybaby with an abundance of feelings’.

Hook rolled her eye. “Just get off me, idiot. I guess you really are still a child.” Peter laughed and rolled off onto the sand, letting herself be pulled up like a much-too-clingy rag doll once Hook had got to her feet.

“What’ll you do now?” Hook asked, brushing sand out of Peter’s hair and frowning at it as if it had exacted some personal insult against her hair-styling abilities.

“I’ll sleep outside tonight, probably. Not much of tonight left anyway. And tomorrow I’ll go and grovel or something. I can still live with them.” She fixed Hook with a glittering stare, and could finally feel the resolve she’d been missing so badly start pulsing through her veins again. “I can still do it, for now, so I will. I’m going to keep doing this until I can’t stand it any longer. But I’ll break it gently, when I do have to. I won’t just leave them to save myself.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Peter’s breath caught in her throat at the words. Perhaps they would have satisfied her more if Tink had said them. Perhaps she’d been waiting for different words from the woman in front of her. But she still felt as if her heart had suddenly lit up and was beaming out through her chest (although, after a quick glance, it seemed that wasn’t the case), growing more intense and choking as gentle brass tilted her chin up and she felt lips grace her nose with a kiss as fleeting as foam on the shore.

_Oh…_

_That was what I was waiting for._

A sound akin to a (very muffled) boar’s dying screech croaked out of her mouth as she gaped, hands flapping at her cheeks in a feeble attempt to cool them down to anything below the ‘white-hot metal’ setting. Hook took one look at her and burst out laughing, and though she tried to gulp it down, she was still wiping tears from her eye as she did a mock salute with her hook and giggled (she tried to hide it but its giggle-like qualities were undeniable).

“I’ll see you again.”

Peter waved weakly as the woman left, and with the very little room left in her brain that wasn’t being occupied with the mental version of high-pitched screaming, she wondered how a sight that utterly uncool could make her heart pound even faster. She slumped to the sand, ruining all Hook’s efforts to put her hair back in place, and began to laugh uncontrollably.


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow Peter still hadn’t learnt her lesson about sand and how much it loved getting absolutely everywhere, so she spent the best part of the morning cleaning out her clothes and cursing herself for sleeping on the beach. It was a good distraction. It wasn’t that she was scared or anything – there was no way she could be _scared_  (probably) – it was just that, in the light of day and without the heady self-confidence that had blossomed in her the night earlier, she was a little more perturbed by the idea of going back. She’d played it cool in front of Hook, but now she thought about it, wasn’t Tink horribly angry with her? Wasn’t Tink also very short-tempered and not exactly opposed to the idea of homicide, given the right provocation?

Her stomach sinking at that thought, Peter could only barely drag her legs on through the forest to try and find her way back to the house. She wasn’t even sure what she’d _say_. It wasn’t as if she could tell them the truth: how well would “I’m definitely going to leave you eventually so enjoy me while you still can” go down? But…when she thought about it, she found it didn’t bother her as much as it might have, not telling them the truth. A smile creeping across her face, she reached up to touch her nose and laughed. No, it probably didn’t matter that much anymore. Symbols of adulthood weren’t all bad.

Not without difficulty (she could have sworn she’d gone in a straight line, but she’d definitely passed the same tree at least three times), she finally found her way to the house, just in time to see the rest of the group come trundling back from the morning’s mayhem. Peter thought she might like to have a word with her guardian angel or whoever kept dumping so many aggravating coincidences on her. _A few minutes of preparation would have been nice_ , she thought bitterly, trying to set her face into something suitably apologetic but also confident.

Tink noticed her first (of course: of course it would be Tink, heaven forbid this happen the easy way) and Peter held her breath as the fairy drifted over, her face unreadable. A few seconds of silence passed by, and the rest of the girls noticed and started whispering to each other while Peter thought her heart rate might even break the record it had set the night before. Finally, Tink snooted magnificently and put her hands on her hips.

“You’re late. You shouldn’t stay out without giving people proper warning that you’re leaving them with a gaggle of boisterous girls to take care of.”

“A-ah…right…sorry…” Peter managed to wrestle the syllables roughly out of her mouth and into the open. Tink nodded and turned back to go into the house. She might have been imagining it, but Peter thought she’d seen a flash in those black, black eyes. ‘ _It never happened.’_

As if Tink had given them permission, the girls all rushed up to Peter, though it didn’t go unnoticed by the older girl that none of them leapt on her this time. That was fine. At least they weren’t quivering in fear.

“What’s up?” she smiled, hoping it looked adequately open and encouraging.

The girls turned to each other, sharing small nudges and glances. Hesitantly, Bry stepped forwards and poked Peter in the stomach.

“We missed you at dinner last night. Don’t you know how weird it is without someone at the head of the table?”

“I’m surprised you weren’t fighting over the empty place. I’m sure Phan would have been a shoe-in for it, what with her extra two centimetres.”

Phan beamed and was promptly thumped in the stomach by the two girls next to her. Bry bristled. “Hah! As if! I’d have won it!”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” Peter said mournfully, clasping her hands. “Seeing as you won’t be getting rid of me for a while.” She flashed a grin and _then_ the girls leapt on her, pushing her to the ground in their characteristic bear tackle. Peter laughed, ruffling whosever hair was closest as the girls started recounting the events of the day before in a rapid-fire verbal onslaught. She let out a sigh of relief that no one seemed to notice, and relaxed.


	9. Chapter 9

Life returned to normal. They went on adventures every day (a fair few of which involved the pirates, but Peter stayed out of the action for those ones), the girls spent nights arguing over who was cheating the most obviously at cards, Peter and Tink resumed their fake power spats, and (a new but very welcome addition to the daily grind) Peter and Hook met up ‘accidently’ at least three times a week.

To be fair, the first one _had_ been an accident on Peter’s side. She’d been holding up the rear of the weekly wild boar chase when her eyes picked up a flash of red in the green blur of her peripheral vision, and before she knew it she’d been stopped by a hand on her wrist. None of the others noticed as she paused, looked around warily, then slipped away from the path as Hook pulled her to a clearing a few metres away. They sat side by side on the forest floor for a few minutes while Peter caught her breath from the chase.

The cicadas were beginning to gather: in a few weeks they’d be deafening, but in that moment they only filled the air with a gentle hum that seemed to shake the surrounding trees like a mirage. “I suppose grovelling must have worked,” Hook said, shrugging off her heavy jacket. Peter supposed it really had to be getting warmer, if even the woman’s dignity was taking that sort of toll.

“Turns out I didn’t have to. Everyone’s just pretending it didn’t happen.”

“That’s probably for the best. Not the ideal way forward for a long-term solution, but…” she turned and caught Peter’s eyes, “that’s not really what you need, is it?”

“No,” Peter admitted. “But things are better now. Maybe it’s because there haven’t been any huge incidents, but I feel more patient.”

“Is that because you’ve distanced yourself from them and are treating them like children now?”

“I don’t know: I try not to think too deeply about that sort of thing. I’m just pleased it’s working out.”

Hook hummed her agreement and they sat for a few minutes longer, watching the trees in front of them aimlessly, still holding hands.

“I probably should get back,” Peter said, a little robotically partly from having practiced the words over and over in her head before she had the composure to spit them out, partly because they felt like they were from a script she didn’t particularly want to follow.

“Ah.”

The cicadas buzzed on. Nothing happened. In the relative silence, small birds began to come closer to where the pair was sitting until they flurried away as Peter pushed herself to her feet, right hand still gripping Hook’s left. She turned round and looked down at the captain, a range of emotions bubbling across her face indecisively. Hook cocked her head as a question and was about to voice it when Peter ducked down curtly and kissed her briefly on the cheek.

The girl pulled away immediately, laughing nervously and hopping from foot to foot, ready to run. “I…I figured it was my turn,” she mumbled.

Hook blinked, in a state of shock for a second, before leaping to her feet and pulling the younger girl into a hug that left her breathless. Peter pulled back first (ignoring how her body was so helpfully telling her that actually, it would really rather stay in those arms for a while, thank you very much) and concentrated on not gaping.

“I really should go now…” she stammered, turning away to get back on the path she’d left.

“Mm, but…that was really cute. I…um…,” Hook sputtered, and Peter spun her head round to find (to her great delight) that the woman was blushing too.

“Then…I’ll see you again,” the girl smiled, trying to look as cool as Hook did when she said it but probably failing hopelessly. Hook didn’t seem to mind, though, and beamed back at her before they went their separate ways.

So started the tradition. Her friends never seemed to mention it: it became something of an accepted dynamic to the group that, yes, every so often the leader would just up and disappear for an hour or so without warning. Sometimes the pair met ‘accidently’ while Peter was out with the others (although she had to admit that by the third time it was very unlikely any of these were actually accidents), but most times they left blatant non-invitations as they parted: “I’m sure the sunrise will look wonderful on those cliffs tomorrow morning”, “The noon sun hits the water really nicely on this bay”, or “That clearing over there is probably a nice place to be at half four tomorrow afternoon”. And it worked. Peter hadn’t been convinced at first – she’d spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering what on earth she was doing, shivering as she imagined what Tink would say, how Tink would _look_ at her – but the more time she spent away from the fairy’s judgemental gaze, the less she found she minded. There was obviously some merit to what Hook had told her, because keeping different sets of friends had more of a hand than she liked to admit in keeping her an adequate leader. It was just easier to accept your gang’s flaws, to be patient and understanding when you knew you had someone waiting for you who would treat you like you were the only person who mattered.

That still struck Peter as odd. Denying that she enjoyed it would be…well, Peter wasn’t a _bad_ liar (she’d found, to a mix of dismay and interest) but that was probably even beyond her. But whether she enjoyed never having to be the one left waiting, always having what she said listened to with undivided attention, being looked at in that special way that seemed to fill her chest with a bursting warmth as if that pretty blue eye of Hook’s was a fire…that wasn’t the point! It was natural that she’d enjoy it! But to always be the one handled with kid gloves was _odd_. It made her question what their relationship even was, and those thoughts only festered as bile in the pit of her stomach because though she’d managed to stop assuming the captain would turn around one day to reveal it was all a trap, the idea that she was just being patronised or treated as a charity case made her feel worse, somehow.

But it was worth it, she thought. Worrying about that was far preferable to what she’d been going through before. There was no comparison, really: she hadn’t felt weighed down by her cloud for weeks, and it wasn’t as if she suddenly knew exactly what she had to do, it was more that her confusion was slowly melting away. Because she could live with this. She could live, like this.


	10. Chapter 10

Mornings were getting more difficult. Time was, Peter had been able to get up with the rest of the gang and had easily managed handling them even when they were popping with energy, but most days now she found herself groggy and disorientated, almost falling back asleep to the lullaby of the girls arguing with each other at breakfast.

“I never gave you permission to touch that!”

“Nora, I was obviously just taking it.”

“Well don’t! I can’t believe you’d do this! Is this because I stole your blankets last night? I cannot _believe_ you would-”

“Hetty, how are your crocodiles getting on, anyway? When are you going to start bringing us animals that are more, I don’t know, cuddly?”

“That’s so mean – my crocodiles are lovely and I’m not just going to drop them for some rabbits because you want something to hold at night. I’ll have you know I’m getting them ready for something important.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it all before – look, could you pass the salt?”

“Honestly though, I don’t think morality really comes into it, Milo. No matter how you look at it, there’s never been any definitive sign that fairies believe in a higher power.”

“Yes, but do you think they’re all basically animals or not?”

“I think that’s a loaded question, that’s what I think – you know Tink could come in here any minute!”

“Well obviously I meant _apart_ from Tink…”

“What’s apart from me now?” Tink flew in, slamming the door open in a gush of overly dramatic wind, and placed herself in a power stance on Peter’s head. The girl didn’t offer a reaction other than a mumbled greeting as she tried to wake herself up properly – this sort of interruption was par the course by now.

The girls chanted a rousing ‘good morning’ and Tink laid out her plan for the day. “The water’s getting really warm down on the rock beach side, so it’ll be just perfect until at least three. You’re all okay with that?” It was definitely a hypothetical question but the girls had apparently not grasped the concept of _not making an absolute racket before they’d even left the house_ , and so they cheered happily. Peter sighed.

“Are you coming?” Tink asked. It had become routine now.

Peter shook her head (softly, so it couldn’t be seen as an attack on the fairy’s dignity by shaking her off). “Not for the morning. I’ll meet up with you on the western path in the early afternoon, yeah?”

Tink made a noise of agreement and started rallying the troops. Peter responded as best she could while they trailed out with cheerful goodbyes, then turned her gaze to the empty wall in front of her. She wasn’t sure why she felt hollow at times like these. Thinking logically about things, she should be ecstatic: she got to spent a morning with a person who… who meant a lot to her, and it seemed that not only did the girls not mind as long as she was her cheerful self when she _did_ spend time with them, but Tink seemed to be accepting it too for the same reasons. And yet she felt empty still. Logic never did have great sway on emotions, after all.

It was probably to do with responsibility, she thought, pushing herself up from the table and getting ready to leave. Her responsibility was with the girls, and by doing what she liked, she was letting them down. So it was guilt, huh? They might not mind, but she couldn’t rest easy knowing that she was probably disappointing them? Well, that was…

She sighed.

That was a shame. Because if she thought logically again, the guilt probably (definitely) didn’t outweigh how much she wanted to spend time out with Hook instead. It only occurred to her as she was leaving that she really must be growing up if she was getting so wound up over something so transient. Or changing, at any rate. This ‘growing up’ business was still an awfully abstract concept for someone who’d never thought she’d have to face it.

The days were getting hotter; the cicadas were finally in full swing, their chirruping becoming white noise in the mugginess. Peter had always liked the heat best, and she hurried down a path further into the forest behind the house without even flinching at the heaviness of the air, making her way to the firefly woods. It wasn’t a part of the island many people liked going to, being in the very heart of the forest and dark even when the sun was it its peak: that was the funny thing about this forest – the trees grew taller the further you went in, and by the time you realised it, it was too dark to find your way out. Tink and Peter had made it very clear to the younger girls that they were not to go anywhere past the oak strata (on pain of death, but Peter suspected that what really warded them away was the fact that she and Tink had actually been completely in agreement and supportive of each other for once in their lives during the warning).

The forest wasn’t unfamiliar to her, though. She’d spent her first few months with Tink in the very depths, learning to live on the island, and so she was able to stride calmly down through the murky sea of thick trunks that stood like obsidian pillars in the forest floor. There was a point, however, about twenty minutes’ walk from the lighter forest, where everything was at its darkest, and this was the most dangerous section not because of any creatures who lived there (Peter suspected nothing really lived there – even the trees were leafless and peeling) but because the darkness easily became suffocating. Its intensity had almost pushed her into a panic many times, but that was in the past. She’d been trained properly, so she just took a deep breath when she felt her muscles clench in the suddenly icy air, and closed her eyes like Tink had taught her. Hands outstretched clumsily, she walked forwards.

Eventually she felt moss as she fumbled around, and she opened her eyes again. Her vision was a little blurry, but her heart was swept over with relief when she saw familiar streaks of light flitting by her – the fireflies were easily spooked, and never stayed in one place for long. The further she went into this new stratum of forest, dripping with dew and sap, the lighter it became, and soon it wasn’t even off-putting for there to be no natural sunlight. Just as Peter was beginning to feel that the whole magical atmosphere thing was becoming a bit overkill, she saw Hook walking towards her and all thoughts of anything else left her mind as she jogged over to meet the woman. For once, it looked as if she had dressed down while still managing to look like she was off to meet royalty (it was debateable how ‘down’ an outfit with that many jewels could be, but she at least wasn’t wearing her usual hat or dress coat).

“Why did you suggest this place, anyway?” Hook said ruefully, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Walking down here isn’t easy even for me, you know.”

“Think of it as a test. Besides,” Peter grinned, “I wanted to see what you look like under the fireflies’ glow. I’m more than impressed.” Laughing at Hook’s flustered expression, she pulled her into a wider clearing between the trees that bent and curved in mismatched arches, draped by curtains of vines filled with resting fireflies like pockets of light.

“Say,” she said aimlessly, not turning to face the woman. “I think I understand a bit more what you were talking about a few weeks back – about having different sets of friends and being different people for them. But you held out on me a little, didn’t you? You never even mentioned that I’d have to prioritise.” _Now_ she turned, grasping Hook’s wrists and raising an eyebrow that was clearly waiting for an answer.

Hook smiled affectionately. “What, did you think I’d spell even the most painfully obvious things out for you? I couldn’t have done that even if I’d wanted to, you should know that. What kind of evolution would you be going through if I held your hand the whole way?”

“You’re probably right,” she conceded, somehow not quite managing to say that the future she envisioned included rather a lot of them holding hands. That would have been sappy, and no matter how much she enjoyed Hook’s company, no matter how much she wanted to stay with her, she wouldn’t let herself get that mushy. Probably.

Instead, she said “Teach me a new dance, would you?”

“Even without music?”

“I hear experts can do it without music,” Peter teased.

“And who on earth did you hear that from? I’m surprised anyone you associate with has the coordination to balance, let alone dance.” She poked at Peter’s responding pout, before quickly taking the girl’s hands and angling her into a starting position that had them so close Peter was sure her heart skipped a beat and then began running a mile a minute to make up for it.

“Pay attention, then.” And so they began.

It was a faster dance than before. Hook alternately hummed the rhythm or counted steps, leading valiantly and always making sure to push Peter’s feet into the right positions, or making a quick comment on how to move. It didn’t take long for the girl to get into it herself and the dance became less uneven, more of a partnership. She’d never been a big one for singing (Tink had the rather unfortunate character trait of making fun of any skill that wasn’t mastered so Peter had just never bothered), but everything felt right in the moment and she found herself humming along to Hook’s rhythm, pulling a tune from somewhere within her mind.

This time, it really felt like it needn’t ever end. The fireflies had grown used to their presence and had begun to group around the clearing, almost curiously, providing them with more than enough light and ambiance. Although the steps were repetitive, there was charm in that, Peter thought. It was like a challenge to make every one heartfelt, as unlike a stiff sequence learnt by rote as possible. So she threw herself into it, tightening her grip on Hook’s hand ever so slightly and feeling reassuring metal shift on her hip in response. Now familiar enough with the steps to not need to watch her feet sternly, she raised her eyes, not minding that she could practically feel how moonstruck and glazed in satisfaction they looked (it wasn’t as if Hook’s was any different, lidded and shimmering in pale warmth). She thought she might have to take back any thoughts she’d once had about never being sappy, because regardless of whether she put it into words or not, the sappiness of the emotion riding through her like a summer breeze was absolutely undeniable. It guided her like poetry, whispering the right answers in her ears because _this_ was special, _this_ was ripe and ready to burst if only she’d take it to the end, and soon an all-too familiar pounding worked its way to her head as she did what she knew everything (especially her – _especially_ her) was waiting for and drew her partner almost painfully close to her.

Hook’s breath came out in a hitched gasp, and then in one smooth movement she pulled back, spinning Peter swiftly before starting up a waltz with a disappointingly respectable number of centimetres between them.

Peter took a moment to process it, just following the lead so desperately given, before sighing a little. “I’m happy with you, you know.”

“I’m happy with you too.” It was aggravatingly non-committal, but Peter persevered.

“This is what I want. I’ve actually been thinking about it, and I don’t think I’d even be able to live with the others if I didn’t always have you waiting for me. And I’m happy here – with you – so is that so bad? I know Tink would disapprove, to put it mildly, but I’m still happy! Even if a lot of the time it feels like we’re on completely different footing and you’re so much more in control of things than I am, I’m still happy. I don’t even mind where this goes as long as I can keep being with you…is that too much? Has it not been long enough to feel that way? I sometimes think I might only feel like this for you because you’ve helped me so much, but most of the time I’m _so_ sure that’s not the case: I just like you! Even if you’re that much older than me and I must just be a kid to you like the girls are to me, I…so…!” she was getting flustered and they’d long since stopped dancing, just standing in the middle of the clearing as she tried to get her thoughts out somehow. Being disarmingly honest had always worked out for her in these situations before, but when she did stop waving her hands expressively enough to concentrate on the woman in front of her, she saw Hook’s expression filled with a pity that Peter couldn’t stand. She shut her mouth abruptly.

Hook gently smoothed down the girl’s hair a little. “Listen…age isn’t something you can ignore that easily, not when you’re so young. I don’t see you as a kid, but even so – like you said – I’m in a position of superiority over you if only because of my experience, and I can’t just pretend that doesn’t matter, doesn’t make a difference on how I handle and understand relationships compared to you. I know I’ve probably been giving you the wrong impression, but…” She opened her mouth again, but shut it as an afterthought, and instead led Peter to sit by her on the roots of a nearby tree. They sat in a silence crowded with flying insects and unsaid words.

“Are you annoyed?” Hook gathered her courage first.

“No,” and Peter curled up to the woman’s side, smiling slightly as the metal hook that had never once felt cruel to her drew her into a hug. “How do you see me, though, if not as a kid or an equal?”

“I don’t have a word for it. A close friend, but more so?” She appeared to think for a moment, but the silence didn’t feel so dreadful. “I like being close to you too. I like being there for you and comforting you and I’ve tried to think about ulterior motives and such, but I think I just like it because it’s you and I want to support you. But even if that sounds patronising, I don’t mean it that way. It’s not…it’s not just me giving a helping hand where I can or anything, it’s more like…getting a friend out of a bad situation, solely because I want you to be happy. Because that latter option has more of a future in it, I think. Do you see?”

“Mm. That does make me happy.”

“But not enough?”

Peter didn’t answer that one.

“Whatever you feel, believe me, I’m flattered, but I think there are borders I can’t let myself cross with you. I’ve been kind of irresponsible with that lately,” she laughed half-heartedly, “but that’s just because sometimes I forget how much less experienced you are. It’s easy to forget that sort of thing here, I think…”

“But that’s exactly it – we _are_ here, we’re supposed to just…I don’t know, have fun to our hearts’ content? Isn’t that allowed?”

“By all means, do what you like. Just don’t expect me to take part in it.”

Peter didn’t even recoil at the thorny words. “I’m pretty sure that ruins any and all plans I had.”

“Does it now?” The woman was putting on such an admirable display of indifference that Peter thought she might have to take notes for future reference.

“So is this another part of accepting the responsibility that comes with growing older?”

“You’re putting it all so clinically. You don’t get a nice little checklist of responsibilities the second you turn a certain age, you know. Actually, I’m probably giving you the wrong impression about that, since I’m always telling you these things, but…in the other world, people just grow older. That’s it. Things happen naturally and you become aware of them just as naturally. You change, and the people around you change. The fact that you don’t understand that fully yet – through no fault of your own – is just more support for us definitely not going further into a relationship.”

“I’ll change, people will change, everything changes – is that really all it is? How does that even work? How am I supposed to grasp anything if it’s all changing?!” She didn’t mean to spit the words with such malice, but then, she hadn’t had great self-control recently anyway.

Hook sighed, and Peter was a little taken aback at the exasperation in it. “Stop overthinking things! Yes, I understand that the prospect of puberty and maturity are terrifying for someone who wished with all their heart to be taken to a place where nothing ever changes, but just _accept_ it! There’s nothing wrong with change, Peter. Good things can change to bad, but bad things can also change to good, and frankly, it’ll mostly just be medium things changing to medium. It’s not something you can stop, and yes, you have to face up to a whole heap of trials and annoyances when you’re older but that’s just how things _are_. Don’t decide to start swimming only to fidget around the shoreline, dipping your feet in the water before complaining it’s not perfect enough.”

She sighed again, but it was softer this time, and the bite had similarly left her voice when she spoke. “I know you’re scared, especially because you’ve spent so long telling yourself that this change is something you Absolutely Do Not Want, but just…have a little faith, would you? I can’t promise it’s all going to work out – I can’t even promise you’ll be able to get back to the other world, but if you’ve decided to start, then stick to your resolve even if it lands you in misery. And maybe you’ll change – maybe you’ll turn into the antithesis of who you are now, but does that matter? You’ve already changed plenty from the girl I knew a year ago. Either way, as long as you still want me here, I’ll ride it out with you.”

A heavy silence blossomed up between them again before Peter’s insecurities got the better of her. “Can you promise that?”

“No. But I’ll do my best.”

Peter nodded, taking in what she’d been told. “I need some time to think.”

“Understandable. Do you want to meet up again the day after tomorrow?”

“Yeah…I’ll meet you at the ship at sundown?”

“Alright.”

It was stiff and calculated, the mere shell of a conversation as each was too involved in her own thoughts to put in more effort. Hook left first, as she generally did, and Peter watched her leave until even the starched white of her dress-shirt had been dyed into darkness.

It was probably unwise to take all your advice from a single person, but Peter reasoned that she didn’t have much of a choice and it was better than taking none at all. Besides, when everything the captain said made sense, it was difficult to raise objections. She had a way of setting everything straight, guessing the words Peter needed to hear and putting them into the air with all the confidence in the world that they’d reach the girl’s ears. Sometimes, Peter felt she must really know nothing, to need such simple words of guidance.

Bitterness grasped at her throat, but she rejected it. She needed to focus on trying to accept everything she’d been given.

After what was probably about twenty minutes (time had very little gravity in the firefly woods – another of their dangers), she got up and began to walk to the meeting spot she’d agreed on with Tink. By the time she opened her eyes into the gradual embrace of light, things seemed better. When she tried weighing it all up, it was probably more effort overthinking the situation than just going with the flow and taking what came at her. She hadn’t paid much attention to it, but she’d definitely been changing substantially without having to overthink every little detail, after all, so it evidently wasn’t impossible for her. And even if things were still confusing, even if her future wasn’t as sure as she’d always wanted it to be, even if she couldn’t always be as cheerful as she wanted to be, she thought that might be okay.

_Because this is how I live now._

And Hook was usually right anyway.

 _There might be peace and happiness to be found here too, I guess. As long as I don’t worry about everything_. Then, as a side thought, _Even if I can’t be with her the way I’d really rather like to be._

Her body didn’t feel lighter or anything so obvious, but there was comfort in resignation.


	11. Chapter 11

After weeks more preparation – filled with cicadas tuning in unholy choirs, moist, heavy air and the thick smell of heat – summer came and went in a flash. Days of swimming, staying in the shade, and the girls complaining that it was too hot to anyone who would listen soon flew by, and before Peter could really grasp hold of the idea, the nights became cooler as the occasional autumn breeze disturbed summer’s mustiness. She didn’t mind. Much as she did love the summer, she was getting a little sick of hordes of sweaty girls jumping on her whenever they got too excited. The constant stream of laundry didn’t even bear thinking about, and she sent up a silent thanks that Tink just got other fairies to do it for them.

To her delight, she hadn’t had any repeats of her discontent from earlier in the year. She was just congratulating herself on this, settling down in a tree to watch the sunset (while keeping an ever watchful eye on the girls bickering below her – she’d got better at that), when she caught wind of some of the conversation from under the tree.

“Hetty, you know, I hate to rush you but you’ve sort of been promising us something ‘special’ to explain your _constant absences_ for months now.”

“Hey! Peter gets to go off alone for her own business – why can’t I?”

“Peter’s the leader: there’s a difference, and besides, she’s not been baiting us all summer with empty promises.”

“Yeah, Hetty! And didn’t it have something to do with the pirates? They’re going to leave in a few weeks, you know? You don’t have much time left.”

Peter’s body seized up at the words, almost sending her toppling down.

After she’d dealt with the alarmed teasing from below and righted herself, she began to think feverishly, ignoring whatever the girls had been talking about. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her. It was definitely a habit of theirs: they were only ever around for the spring and summer months, usually, so it certainly wouldn’t be unexpected for them to go off again this year. That…that was a snag in her happy plans for a content future.

She didn’t really want to say it _bothered_ her, but it left her preoccupied and jittery for the rest of the night, so whether she said it or not, the effect was pretty clear. It lasted through to her meeting with Hook the next day (a very pleasant tour of the outer islands on the pirate ship which Peter had become steadily more acquainted with), and even she had to admit that her conversation skills were not as stellar as they usually were.

As they watched the sea roll by, Hook finally mentioned it.

“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all day.”

Peter considered bluffing it but it was definitely too late for that. She glanced around the empty deck (the rest of the crew were always extremely respectful of her potential discomfort) and grimaced ruefully.

“You’re…I mean, you and your crew…you’re going away again, aren’t you? This winter, I mean.”

“That’s right. It’s fine, isn’t it? You’re doing wonderfully on your own now – I can at least leave you until the spring.” She smiled brightly but Peter had been getting better at reflecting the rays rather than letting them muddle up her brain.

“That’s not the point! It’s not whether I _can_ live without you or not, it’s just that…I don’t really want to…You’re my friend,” _for lack of a better agreed-upon term_ , “did you think I’d be okay with just letting you go away for half a year?”

“It’s not really half a year. Four months, at best. And besides, what other choice is there? We need to go. What, were you planning on coming with me or something?” The words were probably a little harsher than intended, but Peter could still hear the quiver of hope in them. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. When she thought about it, the idea of leaving with the pirates wasn’t as horrendous as all that, but she’d been living with a clear image of her staying in Neverland, with her gang, with everything she was tied to, and even if the offer (though kind of mocking) stirred up ideas she wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with, she couldn’t let that go.

Luckily, the ship pulled into dock before she had a chance to gather her thoughts together, and Hook hurriedly changed the subject, all but pushing her off the boat in an attempt to avoid talking about things they both knew would just complicate matters. Peter was grateful.


	12. Chapter 12

That feeling lasted (alongside a bubbling well of tempting future plans she’d never considered and really didn’t want to) until the next morning.

There was nothing out of the norm for the most part: the girls were arguing, Peter was only half-conscious, and Tink managed to appease both parties by bringing breakfast to revive the leader and mellow the gang into calmer conversation.

Quite out of the blue, Ami and Nora looked at one another, giggling and nodding, before saying simultaneously “We’ve got great news for today!”

Everyone looked at them and they leapt into a rather difficult to follow explanation.

“So as I’m sure you’ve noticed…”

“Hetty’s not here, but that’s for a reason!” Peter looked around and realised that, indeed, Hetty wasn’t at the table. She grinned sheepishly at Tink’s death-glare for not having realised already and put ‘start counting the girls in the morning’ to her never-ending list of duties to do in order to avoid said death-glare.

“You see…” the girls went on.

“She’s finally finished that big surprise she’s been telling us about!” _That_ got some interested whispers.

“All summer she’s been training –”

“She says ‘making friends with’, but it’s more like training, honestly –”

“Those ghastly crocodiles, and today we’re finally putting the grand plan into action!”

They looked at each other and said (in unison, once again), “We’re going to unleash a crocodile army on the pirate ships!”

Peter’s jaw dropped amongst ecstatic whoops and cheers.

They…they couldn’t be serious. Those crocodiles were twice the size of a person, and an _army_ of them? There had to be at least twenty in the group she knew about (and duly avoided), and it wasn’t unthinkable that Hetty had actually managed to enlist them all – that girl had a way with animals that was a force to be reckoned with. Peter started laughing nervously.

“You’re not…you’re not really going to set a legion of giant crocodiles on the pirates, are you?”

“Sure we are.”

“Girls, those things are _huge_. And they’re specifically attracted to the smell of adults – the only reason they haven’t attacked before is because they’re so lazy. You know those things are going to hunt the pirates down to kill them, right?”

“Well, yeah!” The girls laughed, a little unsure of themselves now. “We’re always trying to kill them ourselves, and Hetty suggested this would be a pretty efficient way of doing things. I mean, we joked about it at first, but you know what that girl’s like, always trying to please, so she just went ahead and got the show on the road. It’s going to be really special, and we don’t have to lift a finger!”

Peter could feel her stomach sinking. “You’re just going to watch them massacre people?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be awesome!”

“No it’s not!” she shouted, leaping to her feet, too horrified even to glare. “People are going to die! They’re literally going to be eaten alive, and you’re okay with that?!”

“Peter, where’s the problem?” The room went quiet as Tink casually moved to face the girl, taking her protective stance in front of the younger kids. “They’re your enemies. True, this is a little brutal, but once it’s over we won’t have to worry about them bothering us ever again.” She lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “Or is that not what you want?”

“I…of course I don’t want that!” Peter spluttered. It wasn’t _inconceivable_ that Tink had realised, but…she’d have said something, wouldn’t she? So this was a different issue, wasn’t it? “Who would want to put other people through something that atrocious?”

“You’re so naïve, Peter…” The fairy shook her head despairingly, tossing braids over her shoulder. “They’d do the same to us if they had the chance.”

“No they wouldn’t!”

“Oh?” Tink lifted her gaze to meet Peter’s and the girl’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen many terrifying things in those hollow eyes, but no death threat or furious glint could compare with the almost smug storm raging back at her. She was caught. “And how would you know that, pray tell?”

“I…”

“Give it up, Peter,” she was cut off immediately. “They’ve got a right to know too, so tell everyone – everyone who’s been looking up to you all this time – how you’ve been leaving us for pirates.” There was bite in her voice, raw and vicious, the tremor betraying something very like pain. But that couldn’t be right. Fairies could never handle more than one emotion at a time.

The girls were scared, now, and Peter could hardly blame them. She could barely move herself, and she’d felt the brunt of Tink’s anger for many more years than they had.

“Just admit it, Peter!” Tink growled. “I’m sick of this! I was willing to let it slide, let everything slide and let you have your fun as long as we were always first to you, but this is too much! How could you possibly have the _arrogance_ to think you could take what you wanted from us and then pick that blasted ingrate of a woman over us?! For months you’ve been taken in by her syrupy words, and you never even once asked me, or any of the others for what you needed! Why are we not enough for you?! Why did it have to be her – why not _me_?!”

It was the first time Peter had seen a fairy cry. Her usually golden aura was a static red, bouncing off her body heaving with uncontrolled rage, but there was the unmistakeable glisten of tears in her black eyes (Peter should know – she’d become familiar enough with tears herself).

“I’m sorry…” the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, an instinctive shield against Tink’s power, but they felt lifeless and numb. Apologies would do nobody any good. Before Tink composed herself enough to lash out again, Peter tried again. “I know I should have been honest with you, but I also knew this would be the outcome. So I didn’t. Yes, all of my time alone was actually spent with Hook, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I just…couldn’t. And I couldn’t stop spending time with her either – she’s actually a really great person, I love her company, and I’m sure you would too if you got to know her!  She understands so much, and she helped me with my mood swings and got me to understand what I’m feeling, and-”

Tink cut off her rambling mercilessly. “She helped you understand what you were feeling? For crying out loud, Peter, what is there to understand?! Just forget about everything and have fun – that’s it! And if you were having problems, why couldn’t you come to me instead?”

So reasoning was going to be useless, then. “How could I possibly talk to you about this when you invalidate everything I feel as unnecessary and human? How could I possibly talk to the others about this when they don’t even understand that killing people is wrong?! Why can’t you get it into your one-track mind that not everything I feel is as easy as you think it is?!”

“You’re so selfish!” The tears had gone from her eyes now, and Peter was almost relieved. Her fury was more familiar, anyway. “You’ve got responsibilities here, you absolute _idiot_! These girls need you, and they need you to be your usual happy self, not this hormone-addled freak. Why is it always like this? Why do you stupid, stupid, _stupid_ humans always have to ruin _everything_ and start worrying about your feelings?! She ‘understands you’? No wonder, when she went through the same bloody thing eight years ago!”

Peter’s next argument evaporated from her throat. “…what?”

“You’re ungrateful idiots, the both of you! What, did she never tell you?” Tink was radiating anger still, but her tone had turned mocking. “She was the exact same. Every time I grant a girl’s wish it turns out the same, it always turns out the same! I keep hoping ‘maybe this one will actually work, maybe she’ll stay here forever’, but you always betray me!”

“Why did you never tell me this?!” Peter’s self-righteousness burned through her veins again, making her arms shudder to grab the fairy in her hands and shake her until she spilled everything.

“Why would I? There was never any need for you to know.”

“No need for me to-” The door slammed, interrupting them, and everyone turned to see Hetty come in beaming.

“It’s all a-go now! They’re on their way, we should…huh? W-what’s up here?”

Peter bit her lip and shot a quickly countered glare back at Tink.

The fairy scowled. “You’re going to go and warn them.”

“Of course I am.”

“You’ll still choose them over us.”

Peter didn’t resist the urge that time, and grabbed the fairy in a fist before she could react. Somehow she managed to keep her voice steady and cold as permafrost. “Listen to me, Tink. This is not about choosing one over the other – I’m going to try and save people’s lives. I will not stand by and be responsible for murder. If that means I’m abandoning your side, then I don’t care. If that means I’m growing up, then I’ll still do it because I would take growing up with all its confusion and responsibilities over this deathly stagnation any day of the week. Go and choose another eternal girl.”

She released Tink, wincing at the growing burns on her hand from the fairy’s aura, and was about to run out of the door when her body stopped responding. She was turned back around slowly, her muscles straining uselessly against whatever magic held her in place.

Flickering shadows as dark as Tink’s skin grew from behind her tiny body, spreading over the walls like smoke. Peter couldn’t even see the others clustered behind the twitching mass of snaking coils, but she kept looking at where they should be, anything to avoid meeting the fairy’s eyes.

“You’re such a disappointment,” Tink hissed, the sound echoing impossibly loud. “After everything I’ve done for you, after all I’ve given you, you still refuse to stay?”

“Tink, I _can’t_ ,” Peter could barely manage a whisper. “I’m so, so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t stay the same forever. None of us can. I…I need to go.” The shadows pulsated erratically around her, and she searched for something to say. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing either of us can do, so Tink, please…!”

“Don’t come back.” Something in her voice broke, then.

The shadows began to recede.

Peter’s muscles shuddered back into life and she almost collapsed, but steadied herself, and sprinted past the still petrified Hetty out of the house just as she felt something light and airy fall onto her back. Fairy dust.

In hindsight, she was glad she hadn’t turned back to see what sort of expression Tink had been wearing.


	13. Chapter 13

There was no sign of chaos when Peter landed clumsily on the ship’s deck after an altogether far too jittery flight. A few crew members looked at her curiously, at her shaking hands and eyes flicking back and forth in fright, before someone ran to get the captain. She felt completely out of her depth among these people she’d only had to face as enemies, and her cries of warning stuck in her throat until she saw Hook come onto the deck, and ran to her.

“You…you have to pull into land now!” she blurted out, grabbing the lapels of the woman’s jacket and shaking them desperately. “Please! Hetty set the crocodiles after your scent and they’ll be here any second, so-!”

Hook’s eye narrowed, and with a quick ruffle of Peter’s hair in thanks, she strode to the middle of the deck, shouting orders that were followed by a flurry of action and concerned hum among the crew. The boat had just begun to creak into life again when all movement stopped abruptly with a sickening crunch somewhere deep below their feet.

Nobody said a word. Silence reigned for a few seconds more, and, at a sign from the others, a crewmate peered hesitantly over the side of the ship to where the sound had come from. She had barely had a second to look when the ship jolted again, sending her over the edge screaming as the hull erupted with the sound of breaking wood and a rush of water.

More and more screams joined the destructive orchestra as everyone rushed in different directions, trying to find an escape, but horrified shouts soon made it clear that the crocodiles had the ship surrounded. Peter stood stranded in the rush, legs trembling and mind overloaded with fear. There was no way she’d be able to fly in such a state, but she felt so detached from everything that was happening in front of her eyes that she couldn’t even process the danger she was in. It was a cacophony, a storm of noise and mayhem punctuated with shudders and cracks as the ship began to sink. Even the strangled cries of the crew falling or jumping to their deaths didn’t register as real to the girl, and she barely noticed it when Hook grabbed her by the shoulders and stared her down.

“Leave, quickly! Even if you can’t take anyone else with you, you need to go now!” It was a despairing plea, and that of all things shocked Peter to her senses.

“I can’t – the magic’s worn off now…” she gulped, face contorted with impending tears.

Hook swore, and looked around frantically, but there was only panic in every direction. Pulling Peter by the hand, she ran to the end of the upper deck, in the direction the crocodiles had come from, and shot a glance over the edge. Relief lit up her face at the relative calm below, the crocodiles having quickly accumulated at the sides of the ship where the fissures were deepest, and she turned to the shaking girl behind her.

“You’re still a child – as long as you don’t fall right into them, they won’t go after you. Go now – can you make it by yourself or will you need me to push you?” It was a sincere question, and the worry at Peter’s limp state showed in her face.

“I can’t go without you, though…”

“You can and will because I can’t leave my crew to die alone –go, Peter!” She cast a steely look back over the chaos behind them, jaw clenching.

Peter was about to struggle against the woman’s grip around her wrist, but before either of them could say anything more, the middle of the ship finally gave way completely with a splintering crack of beams, sending the girl tumbling over the edge. Lunging in a last effort, she reaffirmed her grip around Hook’s arm, pulling her down too. Their impact with the water blocked out the deafening, splashing screams in the frenzy behind them.

 The unusually icy sea and biting smell of blood that carried over the waves brought Peter back to her senses and she hurriedly pulled Hook up to the surface, supporting her while she gasped for breath. The sand beach was only a few hundred metres away, and Peter gestured for the woman to follow her, trying to keep an eye out for any approaching crocodiles while at the same time desperately avoiding any view of the wreckage. She could smell it and she could hear it, and that was already far too much.

Her strokes were far more confident than Hook’s, and every minute or so she had to stop and tread water to let the woman catch up. The pace was agonising, ripping her nerves to shreds with each second. If it hadn’t been for the adrenaline fuelling her every movement she would have been powerless to the terror thrumming a tattoo in her chest, and she was constantly fighting her instinct to get away as fast as she could: to leave the struggling, conflicted captain who was going so painfully slowly it was as if she _wanted_ to lure the crocodiles right to them. Hook kept faltering, looking back at the wreckage with an unreadable expression on her face. More than once Peter had to bite her lip to keep from screaming at her to hurry up, and the edges of her mouth were shiny with a film of drying blood when her feet finally touched the rising sandbank, mere metres from the shore.

Standing up, she whirled around to check how far away Hook was when her previously burning blood ran cold as she saw a mass of rugged scales cutting through the water thirty metres away and gaining. As if with weighted legs, she ran to pull Hook away, to drag her to the beach, to do anything as long as it got distance between them and the crocodile.

She screamed internally. Of course it couldn’t be that easy, of course they wouldn’t be able to get away, of course they’d get so far only for it to prove worthless in the end, of course, of course, of course, and _why couldn’t she move any faster?_

She was crying by the time they struggled to dry land, and they didn’t even get a chance to catch their breath or so much as look at each other before the crocodile was upon them, crawling up the sand as if pulled towards the pair by its very basest instincts.

Peter couldn’t manage much more than a muffled whimper as she scrambled away from the beast that towered before them, her feet tripping over themselves and sending her falling to her back, oblivious to anything around her. All she could see were the heaving jaws in front of her, gaping just enough for her to get a gut-wrenching look at the uneven teeth inside and the caking of blood around its head as it moved slowly – smugly – towards the woman pacing steadily further away from her.


	14. Chapter 14

Hook had got to her feet and was holding her sword shakily as she led the crocodile away from Peter. Immediately the girl felt every muscle in her body telling her to run – she didn’t have a weapon or any experience with fights, and she could barely control her own limbs enough to stand – but one look at the captain’s face stopped her in her tracks. Hook was panting, her face set in stone determination that looked ready to crumble at any second. Everything about her posture was sloppy.  Weak. She couldn’t even walk straight and her boots kept stumbling backwards a touch too fast here, getting stuck in damp sand there. There wasn’t a single doubt in Peter’s mind: she would die the second the crocodile decided to stop following her curiously, amiably, swinging rhythmically from side to side as if to lure her to it.

Despite this conviction, despite knowing full well what future would play out in front of her eyes unless she did something to stop it ( _what should I do? What can I possibly do?!_ ), Peter stayed rooted to the spot. It was strange: to render her so immobile, the sand _must_ have wrapped itself in coarse ropes up her legs, tying her so she couldn’t interfere with the scene passing blurred and sluggish before her, but she simply couldn’t see any. And then the crocodile grew tired of its sadistic courtship.

Everything became very clear to Peter in that moment. The beast lunged forwards, jaws wide and shaking in anticipation, and she could even focus on the drops of water and saliva flying from its gums. There was a clash of sword and fangs that rang deep in Peter’s chest, pulling a scream out roughly from her lips as she clutched at her face, her hair, her neck, nails raking down in white-hot trails.

It took a second, a single, one-sided struggle for the crocodile to bite down on the sword and wrench it from Hook’s hand, tossing it away just as quickly. To her credit, the captain bit back her fear again and hastily swung her hook down into its flaring snout. She was rewarded with a gush of hot blood and a growl that ripped through the crocodile’s rumbling mass of weight and muscle, sending it snapping at her once more with a speed she couldn’t have anticipated. Miraculously, impossibly, she only just managed to avoid the fangs that longed to sink into her flesh so badly with a stumbling leap backwards. Trembling uncontrollably, Hook raised her weapon again as the crocodile lumbered towards her.

Peter screamed, on purpose this time, and got to her feet on unsteady legs. A stream of _stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-just please stop_ rushed from her mouth as she tried to think of anything she could do that would be worthwhile. The sword was far too far to grab it without being attacked herself, and she would never be able to take the crocodile on physically. The idea alone sent chills down her spine.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, please just don’t do this! I’m begging you! There’s no reason to do this, she’s not even an enemy, so please _stop_!” It was all a choking, sobbing mess, and as the great slinking tail moved even further from her she began to feel numbness creeping up her fingers. It couldn’t even understand her – there was no reason it should – and yet she kept screaming, trying to will her legs into life so she could do something to save the one person who mattered most to her.

Her voice was weak, rasping out anything she could think of. “Please, I’ll do anything! You’ve taken so many already – why can’t you just _leave_? Hetty didn’t mean for this, she just…you can’t do this! Please, please, I…just….come here, just leave her alone…”

Everything stopped. Surely the wind must have still blown, the waves but have still lapped gently at the shore in all innocence, but in that moment everything stopped. And then the crocodile turned.

Leaving the petrified Hook gasping for breath and struggling for any control over her body, it wheeled around slowly to this new prey that had called for it so sweetly. And then it leapt.

Peter ran, tripping and falling over her own feet again, but this time she stayed upright and sprinted across the beach faster than she’d ever felt herself run before. But within seconds of fixing her gaze firmly on the sand rushing underneath her as a distraction, her lungs were burning, her nerves were already shot to destruction and back, and it was almost a relief when she felt something grab at her leg, crashing her to the ground. Then the pain hit and if she had had any breath left in her heaving lungs she would have screamed again at the blood streaking down her ankle. It had just been a scratch, but that was enough, it seemed. The crocodile loomed over her and blocked out the sun.

On treacherously weak arms, she turned over to face it and whimpered. All the terrified messages that had been shooting through her mind and ordering her to run melted into a low thrum of raw fear. She wasn’t panicked. There wasn’t much to panic about – panic generally implied some level of movement, a frantic dash for escape perhaps, but none of that was possible here. Peter could feel the regular up-down rhythm of her chest moving, the soft whisper of breath leaving and entering her mouth, even the unnaturally loud thumping in her ears, but it all seemed unreal. Once again, her world shrunk to this tiny scene, these two – hunter and captured prey – and she could think of nothing else. Nothing else existed, not as the crocodile began to open its jaws.

The outer world crashed in with a gush of blood and a scraping roar that seemed distant to Peter’s ears.

The sky returned as the crocodile slumped down, thudding to the sand next to her. There was a flash as the sword run through its head glinted in the sun.

Peter blinked.

And then warmth was upon her as arms pulled her into a hug too tight to be comfortable, words she couldn’t concentrate on whispered all in a rush by her ear like prayers, and she felt the dampness of tears soothe her shoulder while cool metal rubbed her back in circles, over and over and over and over.


	15. Chapter 15

They sat bound to each other still, a few metres from where the corpse lay in the sand conspicuously. Intrusively.

It still wasn’t comfortable, and the smell of blood still cut into the air even after an hour, but Peter sat in Hook’s lap, arms wrapped around the woman’s neck just as her own waist was encircled tightly, her head nestled into the dress shirt that dried slower where her breath touched it. There had been breathing hitched by held-back sobs, frantic hand movements to touch and feel and reassure (who, neither was quite sure), but nothing now. A haze of silence accompanied by the velvety-soft waves lapping further and further up the shore.

Neither of them knew what to say.

It became apparent that, at some point, something would have to be said, and enough time had passed that the clarity of reality had sunk onto the situation and Peter knew this fragile moment of _don’t say_ and _don’t think_ couldn’t last.

Hook broke it first, with a voice so weak that Peter couldn’t even be sure it was hers for a second.

“Do you think they all died?”

Images spun through her mind: of blood, of splintering wood, of faces she just barely knew twisted into screams turned voiceless as they all connected in the cacophony.

She nodded.

The arms around her waist tightened and Hook’s body began to shake as she cried. It started out soft – a gasp and a gulp, a shuddering release of breath – before pitiful moans crept from her mouth in ragged sobs.

Peter cried too; a quieter affair, burying her head into Hook’s neck to block out the world, letting the woman’s shaking resound through her own body in a presumptuous attempt to share her grief.

It seemed as if it should never end, but tears eventually run out. Peter had enough experience to know that, at least.

After a time, Hook stopped shaking. A while longer and she moved backwards, staring at the beach in front of her with a carefully rigid expression. Peter watched her, waiting, suppressing what impulses she could feel rising up to bring the woman into a hug again and comfort her. It didn’t feel as if it would be appropriate.

After a deep, seemingly calculated sigh, Hook turned her gaze with sudden softness. Whether it was fake or not, Peter didn’t care to know.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tucking some stray hair behind the girl’s ear. “I forgot you were hurt too. Is your leg alright?” It sounded scripted in a clipped, tight voice, and a bloom of discomfort grew in the pit of Peter’s stomach.

“…I’m fine…you don’t have to-”

“No, you were…I wasn’t quick enough, I’m sorry…” her face began to crumple again and Peter tried to find a way to hold it together, to hold _her_ together. With unsteady hands she reached to touch Hook’s cheek, but it was already too late.

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Like rapidly spreading cracks in ruptured ice, the woman’s apologies grew more flustered and jumbled as she struggled to get them all out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry- _sorry_!”

She shuddered manically, voice breaking with the effort of not crying again. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I-!” Her words choked her, then, and all of a sudden she became still in Peter’s arms. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t…I’m supposed to be their leader and I wasn’t there…I wasn’t quick enough…what good am I as the…the invincible captain if I can’t…I couldn’t do _anything_ …”

Peter’s heart clenched. Her throat tightened and she breathed low, deeply, to control the guilt clutching at her. It was fleeting at first, a leaf in the wind, but a thought settled itself in her mind as she held the splinters of this great woman from falling into despair. She thought…she thought she might now know what to say.

_Prove to me we’re the same._

“You failed.”

Hook didn’t respond, although Peter thought she might have felt the hand on her waist tighten, just a little.

Gathering hopeful confidence, she said again, “You failed. But anyone would have. We were…we were all scared too, you know. Nobody knew what to do. There wasn’t anything to do.”

No response. No lifting of her head, no eye gleaming with tears but filled with radiant, crystalline royal blue _life_.

She tried again, flustered now. “I failed too. I should have got there earlier, I should have gone faster. I should have listened and realised what was going on! It was a tragedy, a tragedy you couldn’t have prepared for and there was nothing you could have done, Hook! You can mourn, you can cry, you can hate yourself for surviving, but please don’t blame yourself. I…I know this responsibility is your life, it’s all that you can see to justify your existence, but there are other things too…you’re not a failure as a person just because you’re a failure as a leader…”

“How…can you be so sure?” She didn’t raise her head from Peter’s shoulder. “I’m already horrible for these stupid, selfish concerns taking over at a time like this…!” Breath growing heavier with each word, she tried to push Peter away, to move from the girl.

“Stop.”

And Hook did, hoping beyond hope that she’d hear something to unravel her thoughts.

(Peter knew the look well – the shaking and the poise and the slight orientation back to the voice she wanted to cling to.)

“You can’t mourn if you’re too busy hating yourself. You know for a fact that none of your crew would have wanted you to take the blame. You’re pirates: they knew there were always risks. They worked under your leadership because they respected you, they trusted you to do the best you could. Don’t you go disrespecting their memory by ignoring their choices; don’t treat them as if they never had any power of their own, as if you were solely responsible for their lives. And…don’t think you’re only good for being a leader and nothing else. Show me I have a future beyond that role alone…”

The world breathed out again with a guttering sigh as Hook lifted her head. “You knew.”

“Tink told me. So I know. I know we’re the same. I know why you understand me so well. So let me show you that I understand you too. Trust me, please…” She spoke softly, with all the gentleness of a calm sea’s embrace.

Hook sank, deep into the girl’s arms again, and shuddered, breath ghosting across Peter’s collarbone. “I…I’m so sorry…I can’t, I _can’t_ …you don’t understand at all…”

There was nothing more Peter could say. She pulled Hook tighter, until she could barely tell whose arms were whose; a mess of scents and sweat and blood mingling as their hearts beat against each other, as the steady up-down of their lungs became one, and Peter knew, then, that no words of hers would be enough. Though she held her future in her hands, she wasn’t close enough to say the right words.

She gave up.

Utterly worn out, her body grew heavy and she began to feel a low throb up her leg from where her calf had been cut, but soon enough even that left her as the world faded to white noise and blurs. A few weary, lagging blinks, and her eyes fluttered shut, leaving her to slump into Hook’s arms. There were probably worse ways to fall asleep.

 


End file.
